


In  D a r k n e s s  dwells

by Jazyrha



Category: Justice League
Genre: Angst, Crime mystery, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazyrha/pseuds/Jazyrha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are no monsters underneath the bed," she told him. But there were so many of them, and they were everywhere, Wally knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Will feature some blood and gore (happening to small children). Nothing in this chapter yet though (proper warnings will be given by each chapter from now on.)

**  
_Chapter One: After midnight_   
**

The door to the Central City Orphanage opened to the sound of cars outside and clicking of high heels.  
(They're was always so much noise, but he always recognised the heels. He could tell who was coming in by the sound of the footsteps. He had time to think about such things anyway.)

Wally West, currently playing a game of checker with a nine-year old blonde, Allison, glanced up and gave a distracted wave to the person who just walked in. A tall, brown haired woman waved back, a shimmer in her hazel eyes. Her skin was pale, almost the same white as freshly fallen snow, a great contrast with her dark hair. Long legs were covered in a dark blue denim skirt, reaching a little longer than halfway her thighs, kept in place on her slim hips by a D&G belt. She wore a light purple, bordering pink designer top, from an expensive brand Wally didn't even want to recognize. Women and their brands.  
(Even Shay loved wearing brands. Diana too. Both different ones, of course, Shayera wore all the sport brands. Told him they lasted the longest, she wrecked her clothing during work-outs. Fragile human textile. Nothing like Thanagar. She should've brought a whole life supply of clothing. And Diana wears girlish brands when she's not wearing anything Themyscara-ish, Amazon stuff. She loves pink and glared at him when he told her that was a girl colour. _What is that supposed to mean?_ )

"Hiya, Nessa!" he smiled, as he moved his checker piece, glanced back down and smiled: "your turn, Ally."

She placed down her Gucci bag and walked over to the table where Wally was playing. She smiled at the child, but she seemed unaware of her presence. Her smile faltered at being ignored, but she waited patiently.

"Looks like you're given Wally a run for his money, aren't you, Allison?" she smiled.

The girl blinked, ignored her still. Her eyes were focused on the game, oblivious to all around her. She held her rag doll, woollen hair dirty and soiled, squeezed her stuffed arm. Wally shrugged and gave her an apologetic look, then focused back on the game.  
(It wasn't personal, never was. She hadn't spoken to anyone when she arrived. They never did when they just came in and she had only been there for a month. Her father and mother had run a small grocery shop. One day, a punk with a gun decided it would be a great idea to rob the place. Shot her parents in the process, leaving her alone to weep behind the counter. When the police arrived, she didn't talk, didn't move, just let herself be brought away.)

"We're doing best out of three," he said conversationally, "this is the deciding game."

"Ah, well, in that case, I'll let you concentrate," she laughed, getting ready to leave.

Wally gestured at the corner of the room, where two girls were fussing over a doll, as he said: "Molly and Rachel have been waiting for you since noon, they'll be happy to see you're here."

She nodded with a grateful "thanks," and stalked off. She walked normally, but her heels made it look like a runaway walk. Wally flipped a red lock out of his green eyes and absently skimmed the room as Ally contemplated her next move, playing with a braid he made this morning. Molly and Rachel were telling a story to Nessa, gesticulating the way children do, showing off their doll, their faces all seriousness. At the large table in the middle of the room, most children were drawing or playing games. Outside, the boys were playing soccer. He could hear the occasional cheers when a goal was made. He loved the noise, loved the constant changing of moods, of words, of pace. He could keep up with it easily. But it kept him busy.

"Your turn," Allison said, her voice barely a whisper and she glanced up at him, fleetingly. Wally pretended not to notice, knowing that acknowledging her eye contact would make her close herself off all over again. It had taken him weeks to even get those two words out of her. She pressed her rag doll closer to her chest, as if speaking had been a huge risk.

"Lemme see," he muttered thoughtfully as he calculated his next moves in super speed, then counted to twenty in his mind. He smiled as he moved his piece. "Seems like you're winning to me."

Her lips slightly twitched, the closest thing anyone had gotten to a smile. She stared at her rag doll as she answered: "you're letting me win."

"What? Me!" Wally laughed, then made a dismissive movement with his hands. "Nu-uh, Ally, you're beating me fair and square." He paused a second, then, as if he changed his mind added with mock seriousness: "I mean. _Of course_ , I'm letting you win."

She smiled again, this time an actual one and Wally smiled back warmly. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Nathan running up to him, black hair ruffled, eyes panicked. He didn't react until he was right next to him, tried not to be too fast. Allison pulled her rag doll closer to her chest, stroking her woollen hair.

"Wally! Wally!" Nathan started, wailing wildly with his arms and gesturing behind him. "Lynn's crying again!"

Wally shot Allison an apologetic look, but she simply shrugged, an almost invisible movement.

"Be her hero," she said softly, still caressing her doll.

Wally smiled, the comment full of an irony she would never understand. He pushed away his chair and let Nathan pull him to the crying girl, huddled into a corner. By her side sat her best friend, Anna, trying to comfort her. She looked up to the sound of quick footsteps and Nathan's rambling.

"Look, Lynn, Wally's here now," she said in hushed voice, as if the words belonged to a lullaby.

Wally dropped to his knees, brushing the hair out of her tear-stained eyes as Lynn slowly looked up.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" he said as he allowed her to stand up and wrap her little arms around him. He picked her up and slowly paced through the room. Despite being almost ten years old, she was still easily soothed by the more childish way of treating her.

In his ear she sniffled: "it's almost time to go to sleep."

Almost as if on cue, the boys who had been playing inside started slowly coming inside, ushered by Nessa. A quick look outside told him twilight was already setting in. He patted her on the back softly

"The monster won't come, Lynn, I checked everywhere," he said in the most convincing voice he could muster. Anna and Nathan both visibly relaxed. Lynn, however, didn't.

"The monster hides. It won't come out until I'm all alone," she told him softly, her young, high-pitched voice laced with fear. "Can't you stay and protect me from the monster?"

In a blink, Wally went over all the things he had to do that day. Monitor duty. He grimaced inwardly. He already had Shayera take over his shift twice this week and he was pretty sure if he asked again she would stuff her mace in a place he'd rather not have one. In particular because he had to protect a child from bad dreams. As much as he loved the league, there were things they just didn't get. Like how real the fear is for the monsters in your head.

"I can't, sweetie." In response she grabbed him tighter, digging her tiny nails into his shoulder. How he wished he could make it all alright again. Tell her that the monster was nothing she couldn't defeat, that monsters never are indestructible. But he remembered when he was a child and he pulled the covers over his head every night, hoping the monsters wouldn't find him.

"But Nathan can!" he added optimistically. At the mention of his name, the boy lit up and smiled proudly, nodding. "He's the bravest boy I know! He'll beat that monster in a second, no sweat."

Lynn seemed to think about the possibility, then slowly nodded and leaned back to look at Wally. She was a petite girl, almost to the point of being fragile, like a porcelain doll. Her skin was just as white, wearing a light pink dress, only making her look more like a doll.  
(He picked it, he loved that. Playing dress up with real children. He got them to put on ten different outfits a day. _Try this, try that, could you put that on?_ They laughed, they thought it was hilarious, thought it was grand. _You look so cute, can I do your hair?_ He would've given the world if only his mother would've played dress up with him once. He would have whined, he would have complained. He would have loved it.)  
She had huge blue eyes, staring back at him, still rimmed with tears. He whipped them off with the corner of his sleeve and smiled at her.

She softly smiled back.  
(He can put a smile on faces that should be stained with tears.)

. . .

He watched Lynn sleep, curled up around her teddy bear. He closed the door behind him softly, leaving it open slightly so the light would come in still.

Nessa was leaning against the wall, observing him and he smiled brightly. A soon as he came out, she gestured her head towards the central room the kids played in and started walking.

"They're so cute when they sleep," he said, opening conversation, his voice dropped to a whisper as he left followed Nessa.

"They sure are," she smiled back. She gestured for Wally to sit down at the grand table and he did, following her with her eyes as she disappeared into the room that was the kitchen.  
(Several years ago, Central City decided to make only one, huge orphanage. He liked the decision as well as he disliked it. The rooms were all too big, it seemed, it didn't seem natural. In particular now, when everyone was gone to sleep, it just felt incredibly awkward to sit at a huge table all by himself. But it was easier too, now both The Flash and Wally West had only one orphanage to visit.)  
"You want some tea," she called over he shoulder.

"Tea is lovely," he answered.

He heard the noise of a kettle being put on a fire, water pouring, teabag ripping, as he glanced at his watch. An hour before monitor duty. All the time in the world.

She came back and put a tea mug in front of him. She poured the tea, silently, her bright red lips pressed together.

She sat down and sipped slowly.  
(Everything is slow.)

"So," she said then, as if deciding to go through with something she didn't want. She flipped her hair out of her face. "You went to the police yesterday."

It was a statement, but he still answered it as if it had been a question. "Yeah. The bastards aren't even going to investigate."

He knew that was hardly fair. They were busy. They were doing something _else._ He worked in a crime lab himself, he knew he wouldn't spend any time on a case as vague as this one. But he also simply didn't _care_ about logic.

"Because they're orphans, huh?" Nessa wrinkled her nose in disgust and placed her hand under her chin, leaning on her palm. Her fingers traced the edge of her cup. He stared at the flowers.

"Yeah. Like every child who experienced pain has to go off the rails and run away."

"Well, maybe they're right, Wally. Maybe we're just too close to this whole thing."

Wally fixed her with a slight glare, looking annoyed and angry enough to make her unconsciously lean back, but not enough to make her defensive.

"Look. I've been visiting here for at least ten years now. Yes, sometimes children ran away, it did happen. But not like this. Not… so many, so often," he shook his head, leaving the red locks that obscured his eyes right there. He suppressed the sigh.

Nessa laid her hand upon his and gave a soft squeeze. Wally looked back up and smiled back, wryly.

"I know you're worried, Wally. I don't think I've ever seen anyone who cares about these kids as much as you do," she pulled her hand back and used it to adjust her (probably fake) golden necklace.

Wally smiled. "Thank you."

Nessa shook her head, then quickly gulped down of her tea. She shoved back her chair and stood up.

"Don't worry, Wally, everything will be fine. It's been a week, right, and they're still here, all of them," she swung her bag over her shoulder while talking and leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm off, see you tomorrow."

"Bye," he answered, watching her retreat on her black heels.

At the door she paused, resting her hand on the doorframe. She looked over her shoulder and gave him another smile.

"There are no monsters underneath the bed, Wally."

He laughed and shook his head.  
(But there were. So many and they were everywhere. He had seen them. He had fought them.)

. . .

Shayera Hol ignored the way her wings were ruffled by a sudden gush of wind. A feather was held before her face in only a fraction of a second after she had lost it. She stared at it, but didn't grab it.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't collect feathers?" she said, pretending to be annoyed.

"You should, though, make pillows out of it. Special Hawkgirl-Feathered Pillows," Wally said in mock seriouness, "big bucks!"

 _I'm not Hawkgirl anymore,_ she wanted to reply, but she didn't because she knew the slip-up had gone unnoticed by him. To him, things hadn't really changed that much. She was still Hawkgirl, despite not wearing the helmet. She was still Hawkgirl, despite the fact she never had been. Instead she replies: "Absolutely."

Wally opened his mouth, but she interrupted him: "enough stupid questions about the wings. And what's with the goofy grin. Had a talk with your newest crush again? Is that why you're not wearing the costume?"

Wally blushed crimson and she couldn't help but smirk evilly. She wondered if he realised how easy it was, teasing him, making him blush and squirm. She realised she didn't want to know (know how badly she hurt him, but no. None of that.)

"She's not my crush," he defended himself, rather meekly. "She's just a friend. And it's just monitor duty, anyway."

"Of course she is," she made sure to look straight ahead to the monitor screens, looking at Wally only through the corner at her eye. She swallowed her laughter at his pained expression.

"Well… she _is_ really beautiful," a little shimmer in his eyes, "but then again, I'm so used to being surrounded by beautiful women…"

She did laugh this time and mocked-punched him on the shoulder. "Flatterer. You're absolutely _adorable_ when you're trying to deny your crushes."

She used the word _just_ to see him try something slightly resemble glaring at her. He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his tongue. He had crushes all the time, varying from girls he saw in the supermarket, to celebrities and people he actually talked with. He got over them just as quickly as he got them, but they usually lasted long enough to use it against him and they were never serious enough to actually hurt him.

"You're mean," he said in a childish voice.

"It's my duty as a big sister," she told him seriously, nodding.

He was smiling now, brightly. It was so awfully easy to send him through a spiral of emotions, it sometimes made her feel uneasy, still. She looked ahead at the monitor screens again, studying landscapes. Wally turned his chair a few more times, a slightly troubled expression on his face. At this, Shayera couldn't help but frown and open her mouth to ask: "what's with the look?"

Wally whirled in her direction as if he had been caught doing something absolutely illegal. She suppressed her smile, but only barely. He flicked his eyes down to the ground, the up again, as if in thought then shook his head, smiling.

"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow. "You look troubled."

"Monitor duty is boring," he supplied in his usual up-beat voice.

"Monitor duty is _always_ boring and you don't _always_ look troubled."

"Nah, it's just…" he paused for a whole second, then whirled his chair back in the direction of the monitor screen and looked straight ahead as he said: "Lynn, a girl at the orphanage asked me to stay, but I couldn't. I just feel kind of bad about it."

"We all have bad dreams, Wally," she replied, hoping she didn't sound all to bitter.

"And we all want someone who can make them go away." His voice hushed. Green eyes dimmed. She tightened the grip on her mace.

"She'll be fine," she offered as comfort. She still wasn't that good in it.

He beamed at her, (vaguely she realised that was more for her benefit than his actual feelings, but that was okay) and nodded, shrugging.

"Yeah, sure, she's a big kid. I'm just a little worried, that's all."

 _You're too good for the world,_ she wanted to say, but that would've just sounded incredibly corny, so she didn't. It didn't make it any less true.

Sometimes she still found it hard to believe, that there was someone like Wally who cared so much about _anything._ She felt a wave of sickness washing over her as she thought back of what made her see that. Better worlds and invasions.

Wally shrugged one more time, dismissing his own words, then started a story about his day at the orphanage. Shayera listened only partly, tuning most of his rambling out. Trying to keep up with one of Wally's story could easily cost you your sanity. She wasn't about to give hers away. Not after she just got it back.

Somewhere along the story, four cups of iced mocha (for both of them, she was ashamed to admit) and hours of staring at a monitor screen, Wally stopped mid-sentence at a buzzing sound.

"That would be your mobile phone," Shayera said in answer to his surprised look. "Perhaps your little crush."

"Do they even _work_ here? Since we're in _space_?" Wally ignored her comment.

"Batman made sure they did," she shrugged, explaining something really obvious.

"Duh," Wally replied and took the cell phone out of his pocket, pressing it to his ear, smiling. "Hello?"

Shayera watched his expression falter and a horrid look spreading in green eyes. She suppressed a shiver. He clenched his hand and stared right past her, into the darkness between the stars.

"I'll be there in a second," he said and put the phone down. He stood up without looking at her.

"I'll take care of monitor duty," she said, her voice a little off at the sudden change of behaviour. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she knew that would require time he obviously didn't want to waste. She'd ask him about him. Later. Like a big sister would.  
(She loved that title so much more than she should.)

There was another gush of wind and she knew he was gone before another loose feather hit the ground.

. . .

"Molly!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, his flashlight lighting the alley in an eerie way. "Molly! Can you hear me? Molly! Where are you?"

God. Where _was_ she? He felt sick. He felt nervous. He felt _guilty._

He shouldn't have left them. He should've stayed. Shay could've dealt with monitor duty. He should've _stayed._

He screamed. He walked. He screamed some more. Molly, Molly, Molly. Molly, ten-year old Molly. Molly, who lost her parents in a traffic accident. Pretty, lively Molly. Molly, who wanted to be a dancer when she grew up.

Molly, Molly, Molly. She wouldn't run. She wouldn't run away. She loved her friends, she loved everything.

"Molly! Where _are_ you?"

The only answer he got was his own desperate echo.


	2. Slowly Dawn Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The monster's here," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** 'graphic' description of self-mutilation and attempted suicide, some swearing. Should the rating be upped to M?  
>  **Special Thanks:** to xRae_Asakurax for beta'ing! And giving me the daisy chain idea. Thank you! And to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate that. To everyone who alerted this story or faved it: I'm really glad you do, but please leave a tiny comment too? Even just a few words would suffice, really. Thanks everyone!

A red blur sped through the streets of Central City. A woman carrying groceries found herself blushing as her skirt was swept up by a sudden dash of wind. Some children skateboarding on the streets almost had to throw themselves off the boards to avoid getting hit by a red flash. A young man in a suit brushed a strand of hair back as it escaped from the rest, combed back with gel.

The eyes of everyone of the city were directed on the red blur, until he disappeared out of sight and the same question sprang into everyone's mind.

 _What's wrong with the Flash?_

. . .

The world was spinning faster than usual. He raced through the city for the umpteenth time, checking the same streets and alleys for the umpteenth time. He hadn't stopped running since the phone call.

 _She wasn't gone. She wasn't._

She was somewhere. Somewhere in this city, a lonely girl was crying all by herself. He would find her. He wouldn't stop running until he found her. He knocked on every door, checked every nook and cranny around the place before the door was opened. He ignored grumpy calls, but repeated the same question over and over again.

"Sir, have you seen this girl?"

"Ma'am, do you recognise this girl?"

 _Her name is Molly and she is ten-years old. She has the most beautiful brown eyes you will ever see and wore her brown hair down when she went missing. She wore an orange skirt and a red Hello Kitty-top. She also has a Hello Kitty necklace._

It was hot. So hot he thought he would forget how to breathe. The air burned in his lungs and his stomach was protesting, begging for food. His legs were starting to get sore; he was pushing himself even beyond his limit. He needed to stop, stop running and slow down. Breathe. Eat. Think.

 _Please. If you find her, please, please contact the Central City Orphanage._

In seconds, the familiar streets of his city sped by. He had reduced the speed of the world around him to slow-motion, stop-motion. He thought he recognised Molly so many times he forgot to count. Then he would reach out his hand, start calling her name, but even before a single second had passed, he knew it wasn't her.

Her hair was too long. Her eyes weren't the same. She walked differently. She had a mummy. She wasn't as beautiful. She wasn't Molly.

He knocked on Nessa's door before he even realised it. He didn't check her house, she was Nessa after all. The door opened quickly. She was in a baby blue summer dress, frilly at the ends. She widened her eyes as she saw a man clad in a red costume on her doorway.

"Hello," she said insecurely. "You're… the Flash, right?"

Wally took a deep breath of oxygen that burned holes through his lungs.

"Yes, I am," he answered quickly. He held up the photograph. "She's gone missing."

Nessa gasped and bit her lip, before she held her hand before her mouth. She shook her head.

"Molly? No, _no way,_ " she replied.

"Look, I've been searching the city for hours now and I haven't found her. If she comes to you, please contact the orphanage, okay? She might come here because she feels safe."

"Okay," she answered firmly. "Of course. Are there any places you haven't covered so I can go looking for her?" She shook her head again. "A sweet girl like her shouldn't be all alone."

Wally gave her a small smile, the first one in half a day. It was good to know at least someone cared. It enraged him to know that if it wasn't an orphan, half the city would be looking for the missing girl now.

"I've checked everything, but a double-double-double-double-check can't hurt," he replied. "Thank you for your time." He added politely.

Nessa smiled and closed the door as the red blur took off again.

. . .

He checked the play grounds. He checked the toy stores. He checked the train station. He checked the forests. He checked the schools. He checked the bus stops, every single of them. He checked her old house. He checked the parks. He checked the dark, stinking alleys. He checked the small streets. He checked the big streets. He checked the candy stores. He checked every single place one could get ice cream.

He checked and looked and searched and ran and the world spun, spun way too fast and the world was _slow_ and _where the hell was Molly?_

With every second ticking away, an ice-cold feeling of fear wrapped itself around his inside, squeezing tighter until he was both burning and freezing inside. He gasped for air that didn't want to come. He was exhausted, he wanted to eat, but he knew he wouldn't get anything to stay inside.

Somewhere in this city, burning up under the sun, a girl was all alone. A girl who was no longer anyone's responsibility.

In the alley he checked first the night before, he got hit by a sudden dizzy spell, causing him to trip over his own feet. His velocity caused him to slide over the ground and he smashed against the wall. His wrist made a painfully loud smack-noise and he winced as he felt pain flash through his body. He stayed like that for a while, head down in the dirt, the stench of rubbish all around as he tried to make the world stop spinning.

He got up then, achingly slowly and got ready to run again as a voice broke through his comm. link.

" _Flash, are you alright?"_

"Yeah, sure, why?" He took a few insecure steps. He was up again. He was up. He was walking. He would running again soon. The world spun. The world spun too fast. It was okay, he was up again. He was up again.

" _You were expected at a briefing."_ Slight pause. _"You're never late."_

"Yeah, well, I'm sort of busy right now," he tried to keep the tiredness and hurt out of his voice.

" _Briefings are important, Wally,"_ J'onn answered through the comm. link, without a doubt thinking Wally was making another excuse not to come.

"Look! I don't _care_ for Diana nagging about how she solved all the fucking problems on some fucking far away galaxy, when there is enough that should be fixed down on Earth!"

Pause. _"I do suppose you could skip a meeting once in a while."_

The connection broke off before Wally could open his mouth to apologise. He swallowed back frustration and started another full-check through Central City.

. . .

"Where's Wally?" Shayera asked as J'onn walked into the meeting room and closed the door behind him.

"He's not coming," the Martian replied, "he was busy." He spoke the last word as if he hardly believed it himself.

"Tied-up-to-a-boomerang-busy or meetings-are-boring-busy?" John interjected, a slight knowing smile on his face.

J'onn couldn't find the humour in it. Even though he and Wally were miles apart, the speedster radiated feelings with an intensity he had yet to find in another human being. It unnerved him, the amount of guilt he could feel now, the rage and the sorrow.

"Neither, I think," he replied truthfully.

Shayera raised an eyebrow and was about to ask what he meant by that, but Diana cleared her throat.

"Not that I don't love to listen about us speculating about what's up with Wally, but maybe we should get the meeting started? We'll talk to him later."

J'onn nodded. "My apologies."

Diana smiled warmly and started the briefing.

. . .

"So. What was wrong with Wally?" Shayera asked him as soon as the meeting had ended.

J'onn kept his face at the screen.

"I don't know. He seemed rather upset," he told her truthfully. After all, she and Wally were best friends, family almost. It couldn't hurt to tell her.

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, the mace dangling from her wrist. She narrowed her green eyes. " _How_ upset?"

"Really upset."

Shayera looked thoughtful for a moment, then uncrossed her arms.

"That's _it_!" she said, more to herself than to him. As if she remembered he was still there, she looked at him and explained: "yesterday, during monitor duty, he got a phone-call and rushed off like apocalypse was nearing. Something's wrong, J'onn, and I'm about to find out what."

She stalked off to the transport bay and J'onn set the coordinates to Central City. In a flash of eerie blue light she was gone. He hoped she would fix whatever was wrong.

. . .

She flew over Wally's home town as if she had never seen it before. She scanned the streets for a sign of him. Only seconds later she spotted him as a red blur, running in a slightly less than straight line. Quickly, she calculated where he would be next and descended.

He ran into her with a velocity that smashed the air out of her lungs. She was hurled across the streets, only avoiding crashing into a window of a little café by a hair's length. She planted her feet firmly in the ground, subconsciously sinking her nails in Wally's arms, her grip so tight he couldn't move another inch.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" she screamed as she caught her breath again. He looked at her, his eyes half-lidded and tear-rimmed. His chest heaved up and down quickly, fast enough to get her worried and he leaned on her as if she was the last straw of survival. The furious look disappeared.

He pulled himself away from her grip, staggered a few steps backward and then fell. A young man walking by caught him and Shayera smiled at him. Sometimes she forgot how much everyone in this city cared about him. As Wally, as Flash, he was loved, always, everywhere.  
(Sometimes she wondered what it was like.)

"Are you okay?" the man asked, helping him regain his balance. People were gathering around him, worried, hushed voiced all around. Shayera felt her claustrophobia creep up. Wally brought a hand to his head and smiled at the man.

"Sure, sure! Just lost my balance there," he said cheerfully. "Thank you very much."  
(She almost bought it. _Almost._ )

"No problem, Flash," the man answered back, the admiration clearly audible.

Wally smiled to everyone, telling them he was alright and slowly the group of people dispatched again. When no one was really paying attention to them anymore, Shayera grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest diner.

"Shaaaay!" he whined, "what are you doing?"

"Sit," she commanded, pushing him down on a chair. She sat down opposite of him and all but smashed the menu in his face. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," he protested.

"Yes, you are!" she fired back, she leaned closer and hissed through clenched teeth: "they may buy this whole 'I lost my balance' thing, but I'm _not_ like them, I _won't_ buy it."

He narrowed his eyes and for a second Shayera was convinced he would snap at her, but then he changed his mood just as suddenly and gave her a childish grin. "Well, as long as _you're_ paying."  
(She refused to acknowledge how exhausted he sounded.)

She gave him a weak smile back, still furious at being left in the dark about whatever it was that was making him do this and replied: "You're not going to make a _girl_ pay, are you?"

"Well, actually…" he trailed off meaningfully.

"Fine," she gave in. "Go ahead and be a rude asshole."

He stuck his tongue out and she did the same in response. A little later a young girl came to ask them what they wanted to order, flustered at the appearance of both Flash and former-Hawkgirl in the little diner. Wally ordered half the menu and she ordered some water, just to drink _something._ When the girl left again, Shayera tried to calm herself and leaned closer.

"So," she started firmly, "this is the part where you tell me what is wrong with you."

He smiled at her, leaning back in his chair, a look in his eyes as if he wanted to sleep right on the spot. "Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes. She wasn't good at this and he _knew_ that. She swallowed back her frustration.

"Don't lie to me," she almost-hissed.

"I'm not lying," he replied.

"You almost fainted on the pavement," she stated.

"Nah, just lost my balance. I do that sometimes," he grinned. "Remember that one time –"

" _Don't,_ " she interjected. "Don't change the subject."

Wally squirmed in his seat. He looked around him as if he was looking for a way to escape, like a deer in the spotlight. His eyes went through twenty different emotions, but he didn't say a word. He settled on shrugging and looking _right past her_ as he said: "I don't want to talk about it."

Shayera held her response until the girl had placed down her water and the first few plates for Wally to eat, glancing between them quickly and backing off just as fast. It was only a minute or so, but the time seemed to calm her and she thought it was time for a different approach.  
(Sometimes she wondered why he made her try so hard.)

"Is it about the phone call?" she said, willing her voice to sound soft and compassionate. "Did something happen yesterday?"

He stuffed his mouth and for the first time in his entire life he seemed to remember the rule of not talking with his mouth full. Shayera wanted to snap at him again, but she took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to wait patiently. She scanned the room. The young woman who was serving them was busy in the kitchen, she could see her walk past the little window in the wall separating the kitchen and the dining room from time to time. At the bar stood a middle-aged man, doing dishes.

"Wally," she said his name softly, checking if no one could hear them talking, and continued louder: "you know you can tell me."

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "Don't treat me as a child."

"Then don't act like one!"

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are! Why won't just tell me? I'm just trying to help, you know! You're _not_ alright. Something happened and I want to know _what_."

"She's gone, okay? She's gone and I have no idea where she is and that's all _my_ fault and I should've been there, I should've been there, I should have saved her! I should have been there, but I wasn't. No, no, I was looking at the earth in a stupid metal cage instead of being there and protecting her! And now she's gone and I can't find her, I can't find her and she's probably _dead_ somewhere and that's _all my fault_."

He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook, but she knew he wasn't crying. _Yet._ The bartended looked over at them and seemed shell-shocked for a few moments at seeing their city's hero hanging over the table like wreck, then politely diverted his gaze.

Shayera took a few moments to take all of that in. That was what the phone call had been about.

"Maybe she just ran off, Wally, don't assume the worst," she almost winced at how hollow that sounded.

"She's ten-years old, Shay," Wally looked back, eerily calm now, like all the life had slipped from him in the last outburst. "How far can she go? I checked the whole city at least a thousand times. She's _nowhere._ "

She didn't know what to say to make it better, so she just patted him on the shoulder. He gave her a weak smile. A few more plates were set on the table.

"And the police?" she asked softly.  
(It felt so unnatural to look at Wally when he wasn't smiling.)

"They're not doing _anything_ ," he told her indignantly, "they just write it off as normal for those kids. But kids don't just _vanish._ "

She shook her head. He inhaled some more food, then looked back at her. "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that."

She couldn't help but laugh slightly. She shook her head. "That's okay."

"I just…" he looked down at his now empty plate. "I should have been there, Shay."

"Don't do that to yourself."  
( _Self-pity will kill you. Take it from someone who knows._ She wanted to say, but she held her tongue.)

"It's true! She isn't the first kid to just _vanish._ They're in danger and I'm not doing anything about it! And just because I have to stare at some stupid screens!"

She nodded firmly. "Okay. That settles it then. From now on, I'm covering all your monitor duties until you found out what's happening."

He looked up at her so gratefully she couldn't help but smile.

"Seriously… You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," she mock-punched him in the shoulder. "I have to take care of my clumsy little brother, right?"

He laughed and it sounded real this time. It wasn't long before she was laughing too.

. . .

He pierced the stem of a daisy with his fingernail, already covered in green. Laying on his stomach in long grass, he carefully plucked another one, only momentarily glancing away from his book he was reading, without missing a single beat.

"And so, the little fairy, Rosebud, decided to go down to the lake and organise a birthday party for her best friend, Poppyseed."

He slid the daisy through the little hole he just created and pierced another little hole through the stem, all the while telling the story about Rosebud and her best friend Poppyseed. On his back sat Allison, from time to time correcting mistakes Wally put in deliberately. She could read like the best and loved stories, especially fairy tales. Around him most of the younger girls were sitting, absently plucking with the grass or intently listening. He made them answer questions about the text, or asked them what they would do for the birthday of their best friends.  
(How he loved how seriously they took it all, how deeply they cared about _everything._ )

The younger boys were playing soccer, as the older ones were having a basketball match.

Lynn was braiding his hair and he let her, as he continued making daisy chains for each of the girls. When he finished the story, the girls applauded him.

One of them, Hillary, a short brown haired girl with thick black-rimmed glasses on her nose, shyly asked: "Do you think I can be fairy too, Wally?"

"Well," Wally started, dragging out the word, just to fill them with anticipation. He frowned then, put on a thoughtful expression and muttered to himself: "nah, I can't tell them…"

"Can't tell us what?" Hillary insisted, shuffling closer. The other girls followed, Anna and Lynn echoing the question. As always, Allison didn't react at all, simply observed what was happening.

Wally pretended to be embarrassed about blurting out a secret.

"Please tell us!" Hillary begged.

"Well," he signed for them to get closer, which they did. He dropped his voice to a whisper, as he said: "The Flash told me a secret spell that makes you a fairy…" he trailed of for the dramatic effect.

Allison was the first to break the suspenseful silence, in a voice full of devotion only children held.

"I want to," she stated, firmly and serious.

"Are you _sure?_ " he answered, with the same seriousness, "because, once you become a fairy, you'll always be a fairy, you know."

Allison nodded. He knew she was only doing this because she wanted to show the rest it was 'possible'. No one ever wanted to go first, so she took the burden on her shoulders. He couldn't help but feel proud of her. He knew that when she would grow up, she would be one of the girls who kept returning to the orphanage, even after building up her own life. He couldn't be accused of picking favourites, he made (almost obsessively) sure he never did, but he had a special place for her in his heart.

"Okay," she said simply.

"Okay. Come and stand before me," he said solemnly. The other kids watched her with admiration. Despite the fact she never talked to them, she was admired by everyone. She had this special look in her green eyes, thoughtful and wise, a look decennia ahead of her age. She was mostly by herself, but that only seemed to enforce the mystery around her. Everyone knew she was brave and when it came down to it: pure-hearted.  
(Wally sometimes found himself wishing his own daughter, one day, would be like her. If only a little.)

Allison got off his back and he got up, dusting off his clothes quickly (slowly). He picked up one of the daisy chains and fished an empty perfume bottle out of his pocket, one he had filled with water for the occasion.

"Repeat after me," he commanded and she nodded once, firmly. "I, Allison Lockhart, hereby solemnly swear…"

"I, Allison Lockhart, hereby solemnly swear," she repeated with perfect pronunciation.

"To fulfil my fairy-duties to the best of my abilities."

The other kids stared in admiration. "To fulfil my fairy-duties to the best of abilities."

"Such as: guarding nature and its inhabitants, saving and caring for my fellow-fairies, humans and aliens alike."

She repeated smiling.

"And to never lose sight of beauty."

She repeated. He sprinkled a few drops of water over her. "Now, you must choose a fairy-name."

"Alalia," she decided.

"Alalia, I hereby declare you a fairy," he stated as he hung the daisy chain around her neck. The other kids stayed silent for a little while and Allison sat back, just slightly separated from the group. It wasn't long before they all wanted to be fairies and Wally spent the rest of the day 'making' them into ones and watching bright smiles. He even got Rachel, despite her worry about Molly to smile several times.  
(He hoped he didn't have to tell her she lost someone she loved once more.)

. . .

When the dark started to set in, Vanessa opened the door to the orphanage, only to find all the girls with daisy chains hanging from their necks, even when wearing their sleeping clothes already. She spotted Wally and gave him a quick wave.

He walked towards her, leaving the kids to draw or something else. Allison followed him with her eyes, as if to make sure he wasn't leaving her, then directed her attention back to her drawing.

"Daisy chains," she said as he stood next to her.

He laughed and shrugged. "I made them into fairies today."

"Awww, how cute," she mocked him.

"You're just jealous you're not a fairy," he fired back.

"Of course I am," she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Her face turned serious. "Have you heard anything about Molly yet?"

He shook his head. "No. It's been a whole week now."

She hugged him. "We can't lose hope, Wally."

He nodded as if he understood.

They talked until the owner of the orphanage, a middle-aged woman called Kate, told the kids it was bedtime. Wally and Nessa helped them get into bed. At Lynn's bed Wally lingered.

"I'm going to stay tonight, okay? So you don't have to be scared of the monster."

"Do you want to sleep in my bed?" She smiled, the fear prominent in her huge, blue eyes.

He smiled back. "You know what? That would be a great idea."

The bed was small, but he managed. Lynn lay on top of his chest, but she was such a slim girl he barely felt it. He had had building fall down on that chest and been able to breathe, a small girl wouldn't make a difference. He stared at the ceiling through the semi-darkness (there was always a light on, since most children were still afraid of the dark.) He smoothed Lynn's hair absently and she snuggled closer to him. He listened to cars screeching by and the occasional snoring from the children. Inwardly, he made a note to thank Shayera again for covering his monitor duty. Outside, the wind howled and he could smell the moist air that predicted a summer storm.

He looked around for monsters.

. . .

A little after midnight, Lynn shot up and looked around wildly. She was sobbing and shaking. He pushed himself up on his elbows and caressed her hair. She wrapped her tender arms around him, shaking still.

"The monster's _here_ ," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"That's okay, Lynn, I'll protect you," he promised. "Don't you worry."

She nodded and he held her close until she calmed down. She pouted, but she wasn't crying anymore.

"I need to pee," she told him.

He laughed softly. "Okay. If you see a monster, just shout for me okay? I'll protect you." He flexed a muscle to strengthen that statement and she giggled. He watched her close the door behind her and looked around to see if anyone had woken up. Outside, the rain broke through the clouds and pounded against the windows with aggressive force. Some of the children shuffled in their sleep, but didn't wake.

Wally waited in the dark, staring at the lightening outside. When Lynn wasn't back after what felt like an eternity, he got up and walked outside. Softly, he closed the door behind him.

"Lynn?" he called. He looked at the clock in the hallway. Half past midnight. He shivered, perhaps against the cold, perhaps against something much, much worse.

"Lynn?" he called again, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket at the lack of response. It took him a few long strides and he smashed open the door to the girl's bathroom, only to find it empty.

His heart trashed against his ribcage wildly, his lungs suddenly begging for air that was never enough. "Lynn?" he called again, his voice shaking along with his hands.

A whimper.

He smashed the door open to the grand hall. The lightening cracked outside, bathing the room in an eerie, bright light.

Wally smashed his hand for his mouth so he wouldn't scream in horror.

. . .

Shayera leaned back in her chair and drummed a song with her fingers, careful not to push any buttons on accident.

"Are you alright?" a low, painfully familiar voice next to her asked. "You look troubled."

"I'm just a little worried about Wally," she answered, giving John a small smile. He nodded in response, glancing between her and the screens, frowning.

"What happened?"

Shayera shot him a look. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I've been _really_ busy, and that guy can be stubborn like hell when admitting things aren't all sunshine and rainbows."

She smiled and frowned almost simultaneously as she remembered how keen he had been on denying the fact something was wrong. "Kids have been disappearing from the orphanage."

"And he blames himself," John added.

. . .

Blood dripped to the ground, staining her white sleeping dress. Staining the floor, staining the scissors next to her.

Her mouth was open in agony, but only blood spilled out, her voice some noise in the back of her throat. Her wrists were turned up, a tear in the flesh. She had stopped shaking. She just stared at him, lifelessly.

He saw the useless remains of a tongue in her mouth, the rest of the muscle laying on her lap, between her sliced wrists.

His heart lay completely motionless in his chest.

. . .

"He cares too much," she said, keeping her gaze locked on the screens, not even blinking. He loved all those children as if they were his own, she knew.

"He does," John confirmed. He looked at her, she could see it from the corner of her eye, but she didn't dare to look back into his glowing green eyes. She hadn't for so long now. "But hey, he bounces back fast."

"Yeah." But she could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh like newly sliced cuts filled with salt and she wasn't so sure.

. . .

He fished his Flash ring out of his pocket and put on his costume as he ran to the EHBO kit in the storage room. In super-speed he applied her bandages, making sounds that were meant to comfort her, but made him shiver instead. He picked her up and a nanosecond later he was at Kate's room, pounding on the door more than he was knocking. She opened the door and screamed as well.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," he answered, words like poison he was swallowing willingly. "I've got to take her to the hospital. You make sure no one gets in or out this place until the police are here, okay?"

She nodded, grabbing her cell phone. He could hear her dial the number as she went to check on the other kids. He could hear them crying now, woken up by the sudden hysteria. He raced off with Lynn in his arms, direction hospital, a trip that never seemed to take so long.

He gave her into the arms of a professional-looking nurse, as she paged the doctors. Seconds later they were rushing her to the surgery rooms. The same nurse held him back.

"I'm sorry, Flash, you can't come in."

He nodded and stepped back, feeling dizzy, angry, exhausted and just plain devastated at the same time. He covered his head with his hands, only to find them sticky with blood. _Her_ blood. He staggered towards the restroom and threw up in the sink, coughing wildly. He closed his eyes, but he could still picture her, covered in blood, screaming with a voice that no longer could form any words.

The blood on his hands didn't seem to come off.

. . .

"You're not even trying," Diana said in frustration as she made a back-flip to avoid getting Bruce's boot in her face.

He ignored her, instead launching another series of punches and kicks at her. She dodged them all and the grabbed his hand, hurling him (almost softly) through the room. He got up again and waited for her to attack, as he tonelessly stated: "It's just a spar."

She couldn't tell exactly why, but the words and the voice enraged her. She aimed for his face, but he ducked under her wrist and brought he palm up, hitting her chin. Momentarily caught off guard, but not at all fazed by the attack, Diana kneed him in the stomach.

He let go of her wrist, taking a few unbalanced steps backwards.

"You used to try your hardest even during ' _just a spar',_ " she replied.

"People change," he said and it sounded stupid because if there was one person on the world who didn't care for second chances, it was him.

She leapt forward, grabbing his wrist. In a fluid motion she was behind him, twisting his arm towards his back.

"Looks to me you just lost your spark," she said and she hoped he would elbow her to deny it. About all the qualities she had found attractive in him, his passion and determination stood out. The person she was holding in a death grip now was someone she hardly recognised.

It terrified her when he did nothing to get away from her. His eyes were, instead, looking straight ahead and curiously she followed the direction.

She had never seen Wally looking as broken as he did right then, leaning in the doorway.

"Oh hi there, Wally," she feigned ignorance, reading Wally's look. He gave her small smile back, as in reflex. She added: "I was just leaving."

She let go of Bruce, who took his now sore wrist in his other hand and turned his hands a few time to restart the circulation. She walked past him and patted him in the eye when she left.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, letting go of his own wrist. He noticed the redhead had dark circles underneath his eyes, as if he hadn't slept at all the night before. His hands were slightly shaking, he kept them balled to fists. The clicking of Diana's heels down the hall subside and Wally finally spoke, his voice sounding hoarse.

"I need your help, Bruce. _Please._ "


	3. During Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monsters could be caught. He just had to find them underneath the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Mentions of attempted suicide. **  
> ** **Special Thanks:** To xRae_Asakurax for BETA'ing, to CodenameEternity (The Lunatic Who Cares) for helping me solve my plotholes and to everyone who reviewed, alerted, or favourite'd this story. I am truly grateful to all of you. **  
> ** **Note:** I don't know _anything_ about Murmur, but since Kyer brought him up, I felt I should include him in this. If there are some plotholes regarding the character, please ignore it for the story's sake. Also, I'm sorry you waited this long for a chapter that, I'll be honest, is mostly filler. But well, at least I'm posting something! XD

Marlon Delmar had been a police agent for ten years now and had met The Flash enough times to call him something resembling a colleague. They had been through a lot. They had seen the worst parts of human beings and the best. He had seen the man laugh in triumph when he did something good, seen him mock villains in costumes, seen him look like a wreck but this was the first time he had seen the Scarlet Speedster angry.  
(Completely pissed off would be a better word. It unnerved him in a way the most psychotic plan of a villain never could.)

"Just _listen_ to me, Marlon! It _wasn't_ a suicide attempt," the superhero repeated for the umpteenth time.

Delmar feigned patience. He was busy enough not to care about little orphans deciding to get creative when killing themselves. He had read her history. The poor kid had been abused by her father and her mother had never told him off a single time. Then one day the beating goes to far and they left her in an alley, all alone, to either die or rot away. Flash had found her, following a stray dog that had picked up the scent of blood. No one ever came to claim her as their own. No one ever came.  
(Perhaps this was symbolic, perhaps she had seen past the use of language. It had never done anything for her.)

"I'm truly sorry, Flash," he said empathically, "but my men already looked around the orphanage yesterday and they didn't find anything, _as expected_."

"Come on! You know me. I wouldn't let you guys patrol for absolutely nothing. I don't go looking for trouble when there isn't anything wrong!" Flash almost-yelled, waving his arms around in desperate, fast measure. Delmar laid a hand on his papers to keep them from being hurled around by mini-hurricanes.

"I know that, Flash," he sighed, feeling uneasy of telling off a frigging _superhero_. "But I also know you care about these children _a lot._ "

Flash's crossed his arms over his chest again, now standing completely still. The calm before the storm, Delmar thought wryly, the last second before the time bomb would explode.

"I know it's hard to see someone you love do something like this to themselves. I know that's hard to accept," he continued nonetheless, keeping his voice the epitome of understanding. "It's only natural we go looking for a reason."

He walked towards the still frozen speedster and laid his hand on his shoulder, feeling muscles tense like an animal ready to bolt. He smiled and lowered his voice. "But there are no villains out there to get those kids, Flash. Sometimes, they just run. Sometimes, they just don't want to live, no matter how hard you try."

This time it was his turn to freeze, as green eyes looked at him. The smile on his face was correct, but the eyes were all wrong. There wasn't any of his usual energy behind them. It wasn't even anger or betrayal. Delmar retracted his hand as if he burned it, resting limply by his side.  
(There was a shield over them, hiding any of his real intent. He suppressed the shiver down his spine.)

"This isn't like that," he answered. He paused, then shook his head, then smiled. "Thank you for your time anyway."

"I'm truly sorry, Flash."

"That's okay, commissioner. You're busy, I understand."  
(You're too busy to save these little children. _I understand._ You're too busy to care. _I understand._ )

Delmar felt oddly useless when a nanosecond later he was all alone in his office again, like he was truly missing the obvious, like he was truly okay with little children getting slaughtered in horrid ways. He shook his head and sat back behind his desk, flipping through papers. Solving _real_ cases.  
(If only that was as convincing as it was supposed to be.)

. . .

He pulled Nathan into a hug and felt the little boy tremble inside his arms, head buried in his chest. He made sounds there weren't really words at all, because he couldn't imagine any words that would make it alright.

"I promised to protect her," the little boy sobbed into his shirt and he didn't even care it was stained with tears and snot, except he cared _so much_ it ripped into his heart. A tear like sliced wrists.

He couldn't tell Nathan that sometimes that was a promise you can't keep. That it was _always_ a promise you couldn't keep.

He had been right there. Right there. A distance he could have crossed in a time so short there wasn't even a name for it. A fraction of a yoctosecond. A distance that in his world didn't exist at all. He had been _right there._ And he had done absolutely nothing to prevent her bloody fate. He promised her. They all promised her. Her fellow fairies and her friends and those few who looked after them.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. Because those kids were no one's responsibility and no one would look into it. Everyone wanted an easy way out. Everyone wanted to blame those horrible, neglected, _troublesome_ kids. Blame their pasts, blame their silence, blame everyone but the monster who did this.

He thought of Bruce's cold eyes, cold as hardened ice in the midst of winter, telling him that he couldn't help him. That he was too busy. That he was on his own. He thought of how he just walked past him and left him, left him as if there was nothing going on.

He thought of Anna's sad, sad eyes, her little face covered in tears. He thought of how she trembled, how she clung to the covers of her little bed.

He thought of Delmar, shrugging it off like he was making everything up.

He thought of nothing but nothing but soothing sounds, raced through his mind searching for words that would make it even slightly less bad, as he hugged Nathan tighter, petted Anna's hair. But she lay there, in a white hospital bed, not even _sleeping_ and he was holding a trembling eleven-year old boy, listening to a girl weeping and he clenched his teeth. He would find whoever did this and make them _suffer._

Suffer like they were suffering now.

. . .

He didn't need Batman to help him out. He didn't need to police to back him up. He was Flash, and although that name wasn't associated with brains and detective skills, he _did_ work at a police lab.

All he had to do was put the pieces together and find the monster. He crushed his umpteenth paper cup now emptied of coffee in his hand and threw it at the trash bin over his shoulder, not caring if it would actually land in, already grabbing the next cup, mulling over details in his head. Suspects. Monsters that could be caught. He just had to find them underneath the bed.

He rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, twitching his legs. He wanted to run. It didn't really matter what his destination would be. He just wanted to run as fast as he could, not the careful controlled tempo he had in cities, always looking out, always careful. If he went too fast, he'd rip the asphalt. If he went too fast, he'd hurt people with the drawback of his speed. If he went too fast, all kinds of bad things would happen and he always had to _watch out_ for everything. _Slow down._

He couldn't frigging think like this. He was twitching from the adrenaline of fifty-seven cups of coffee drunk in two hours and he was sure he was going mental in the slowest way possible.

All he could think about was Lynn, teary-eyed and bloodstained Lynn. All he could think about was her tongue on the floor, instead of her mouth. And did that happen to all the kids? Did the monster cut out their _tongue?_ Cut over their wrists?  
(Or was he, like everyone else in the entire universe seemed to think, simply being overprotective and paranoid?)

He jumped up and spend the next five minutes staring at the water in the toilet, the horrible moment between the final wave of sickness and the actual vomiting drawn out for what seemed hours.  
(He tried to tell himself it was because of the coffee. That if he didn't drink it anymore today, he'd be just fine. That his stomach would stop twisting itself over and over again, that is was just the damn coffee.)

He thought of how many disappeared. Assuming Lynn should have been one of them, his mind reached a gruesome nine. Nine girls missing and not _once,_ not _once_ had someone looked up and done _anything_ about it. He had heard all the excuses.  
("Girls run away sometimes, Wally, it happened before." "Don't you worry, there's nothing wrong." "Come on, don't exaggerate." "It was just a suicide.")

He coughed, but still didn't throw up. He needed to move and he needed to move _now._ He all but staggered to his coffee table, picking up his comm. link and putting it in his ear, as he said: "Beam me up, Scotty!"

" _I am still unfamiliar with that reference, Wally,"_ J'onn informed him.

Wally made a tssk-ing noise as the blue light wrapped around him. He never minded the feeling of being transported as much as the others always seemed to do. At least it was faster than flying to it. It felt a bit odd, though, he had to admit, a tingling sensation like electricity through his veins. Only second later he was standing in the Watchtower, waving at J'onn as he walked past him, then hesitating in his step. He swirled around and shifted slightly awkward.

"J'onn," he started, "sorry for yelling at you like that yesterday."

"Think nothing of it," the Martian replied as he glanced away from the monitor screens. "I understand you were quite troubled –" the slight change in his features, something that would go unnoticed by most, told Wally he was actually concerned, "and perhaps you still are. Is it something I could help with?"

Wally shrugged, fidgeting some more, the caffeine still racing through his vein like toxin. He had to concentrate on letting him finish his sentence and not cutting him off in the middle. He shrugged once more. "I appreciate that, J'onn, really do, but - Earthquake."

J'onn seemed caught off guard for only a second, before he turned his chair again and followed the speedster's gaze on the monitor screen. He heard Wally sigh behind him and it sounded much too weary and old for the young hero. The footsteps behind him told him he was already walking back to the transport bay.

"Well, if this wasn't one hell of a useless trip," the redhead muttered.

"I could –" J'onn started, but Wally cut him off before he got very far.

"I'm not going to let people go in an attempt to save others," spoke Wally cryptically.

J'onn nodded and transported Wally to the Kanto region of Japan, telling himself he'd listen to the man later on. Saving lives was always top priority and he couldn't help but feel proud of the young man to never, not even for a single second, forget that fact.

. . .

The thing about being The Fastest Man Alive was that he was always busy in a sense where he wasn't at all. That didn't make too much sense in his head, but it was still the truth. Even now, as he raced over a trembling ground and focused on not losing his balance to evacuate the people scrambling to their feet and running at an agonizingly slow rate, he could still see Lynn's bloodstained face freshly in his mind, the anger still rushing through him. The job at hand was completed almost disgustingly automatically. He didn't even wait to let people finished their 'thanks'.  
(He always did.)

"Hera, give me strength," Diana prayed as she tried to keep a building standing, shaken from its foundations by the heavy trembling of the earth. She gritted her teeth and refused to let go, her head hung between her arms. She could see people scrambling to their feet, the chaos panic brought to humans.

"Flash!" she screamed, "get them out of there! I won't be able to hold this for much longer!"

Even if the weight hadn't been a problem (which it wasn't _really,_ for Diana knew that if she truly had to, she could hold the damn thing for _hours_ on end) the foundations were cracked and sooner or later the building would have to fall down, a victim of gravity, a tree without a stem. Her blue eyes could barely make out the red and yellow blur that she knew was Wally, racing underneath the buildings. She felt the drawback of the speed, whipping her hair in her face, every time people were picked up by Wally and set off in an open area, away from the danger of buildings crashing down upon them, not wasting a single second.

"All clear, Princess!" he screamed back at her, waving for good measure. Carefully, she lowered the building until it hit the ground. She flew back at Wally, standing next to him and assessing the situation.

"Seems like the worst is over," Diana smiled at her masked friend.

Wally smiled back just as brightly. "Yup! I think I evacuated everyone to the nearest city. Sure would've been nice to have John here, though. Do you have _any_ idea how many times I run the same track?"

He grinned and she punched his arm playfully. "Any idea how long I had to hold that building from collapsing," she replied and teased: "you're getting slow."

Wally gasped in mock horror and she laughed.  
(Despite the debris all around them, the dust in her hair, stinging in her eyes, the destruction all around them, he still made her smile as if there wasn't a single worry in the world.)

"Let's do a last check around," Diana proposed, "in case someone got left behind or caught in the ruins."

Wally nodded and took off. Diana pushed the strands of hair that flew in her face because of his speed behind her ear and took off in the opposite direction, meeting up with the rescue units.

. . .

"Thank you for all your help," the team leader of the rescue units thanked them politely. Diana smiled brightly at him and Wally gave him a small nod. "We should be able to handle it from here."

Diana got ready to reply, but the man's attention was already required elsewhere. Wally watched the tall man give around orders as it was his second nature and couldn't help but take pride in it. Perhaps more than anyone else in the league excluding Batman, he felt connected to non meta-humans. He had been like them and even though that seemed an eternity ago, he still remembered it clearly. The way he worshipped the known meta-humans and how, more than anything, he wanted to help people out too, through nothing more than hard work and will power.

"I guess we should be going back then," he said to Diana, who seemed equally pleased at the show of teamwork in front of them.

"How about a drink in Paris first?" Her offer left him stunned for the fraction of a second (a long time) and he raised an eyebrow. She simply smiled. "You promised me, remember?"

A part of him wondered if Shayera told her. He knew secrets were actually quite hard to keep in the League and in particular Shayera and Diana could be found indulging themselves in gossip. Not that John and Superman didn't. Hell, not that he didn't. But still, he didn't quite feel right with the whole pep-talk thing or taking things that were given out of pity. He knew it was wrong to think about it that way. Diana was his friend and she was trying to help, trying to cheer him up.  
(Perhaps he simply wasn't used to the roles being reversed. It was supposed to be him going out of his way to make people happy, not the other way around.)

"Sure thing," he grinned a few seconds later. "I'll see you there!"

He turned on his heel and sped off, the world quickly changed into a blur.

. . .

His feet dangled of one of the iron bars that constructed the Eiffel tower. He was wearing his civilian clothes, as he often did. He loved being Flash, but he reminded himself he could never forget that he was Wally too, that he was Wally West _before_ he was Flash. Not after.

"When I said Paris, I was thinking more along the lines of a café," Diana laughed. She was wearing a simple black dress with a pink belt loosely around her hips. Her hair was tied together in a low ponytail.

"I know, but isn't this _so_ much cooler?" Wally replied.

"It is," Diana agreed, a small smile upon her lips she often had when around Wally. She couldn't help but feel an almost maternal feeling when around him, his young age only accentuated by his behaviour. Even so, it wasn't really immaturity, she thought to herself, but rather a constant promise of mischief and a childish way of admiring things that were so typical for the speedster. Before they even know of the Justice Lords, most of the league had taken up on watching over Wally in their own way and those horrible events had only strengthened her need to protect him.

Still, she was aware that he wasn't truly in need of that protection. Despite everything, he was more than capable of protecting himself and a lot stronger than most of them could realise. It was just so easy to forget all those things, Diana mused, it was so easy to forget those things when around him, when those green eyes were staring at the view as if he had never seen anything like it, as if everything was new and precious.

Yet, today it was different. She had noticed when they were battling Mother Earth a little while before, Wally had been too focused on the job, almost frantically so. She knew something was wrong when he skipped the meeting, than had her feelings confirmed almost painfully by his green eyes so panicked, asking for _Bruce's_ help. She stared at the cup of tea she had in her hand (she disliked the bitter taste of coffee, despite her best efforts to teach herself how to drink it) and decided to ask him straight away.

"Wally, I've been wondering - " She started.

"— My costume change? Ha, you're the first to ask!" he finished her sentence. She raised an eyebrow at being interrupted, but she decided to go along with it.

"Yes, actually. You took out the white lenses, may I ask why?"

Wally shrugged and stared out over Paris. The streets looked beautifully small, a web of traffic, of human life, of moments that could change a life. The houses were tiny and beautiful, cathedrals sticking out like huge trees. He swung his legs up and down and then shrugged again.

"I never really liked looking through those things," he grinned at her, "it's better when I can see everything with my own eyes."

"You changed it after the Justice Lords incident," she remarked bluntly. Wally stiffened for a second, like an animal did when trapped. For the tiniest second Diana was reminded of the hunts she used to participate with her Amazonian sisters.

"Perhaps it keeps me more honest," his voice had dropped a little, as if he was telling a secret he swore to keep forever, "it must be kind of creepy anyway, having your ass saved by someone you can't even look in the eye."

Diana smiled. She knew it wasn't the complete explanation, but she went with it anyway. Wally shrugged again, almost internally, than started telling a random (and only mildly interesting) story about a girl he met in Paris once. Diana sipped her tea and thanked the Gods in silence for blessing her with another wonderful day amongst admirable friends.

. . .

Wally crouched down on the rooftop of a Victorian looking building. The flat was twenty stories high and gave a very detailed view of the square underneath it. Even though it was brightly lit, it still seemed to have many more shadows than other squares. He was probably biased, he told himself. He was in Gotham City and everything there seemed darker. He could imagine going for groceries in Gotham was the scariest thing you could put someone through. Figured the city had the scariest guardian, as well.

Speaking of which –

"What are _you_ doing _here_?" The low, grim voice that could only belong to Batman sounded behind him.

He didn't start, despite the fact he hadn't really seen him coming. He didn't even hear someone breathing. It was almost as if the shadows itself were talking to him.

"Enjoying the sights," he managed to reply, but even his voice seemed to be influenced by the city. Perhaps he was just really tired.

"You shouldn't be here," Batman answered, ignoring his comment.

"I can be wherever the hell I want, thank you very much," Wally fired back.

There was a pause in which Wally couldn't tell whether he was alone again or if Batman was still staring at him. He would have faced him, but he couldn't lose the square out of his sight.

 _He_ would come here. He was sure of it.

"Murmur," Wally confessed then, annoyed by the eerie silence and the gaze upon his back like burning. "I thought he was involved with _my_ case so I did some research. Turned out, last sighting was here in Gotham."

Wally glanced over his shoulder to see if he wasn't truly talking to shadows.

"Continue," the gruff voice out of nowhere ordered.

Wally glared, hoping it was somewhere in his direction, then focused back on the square.

"He hears voices in his head. Voices that tell him to kill, as many as he can. Thing is, he couldn't stop himself from actually _confessing_ these murders so he cut out his tongue," he shuddered.

"Just like Lynn Sullivan," Batman ended his sentence.

"Yes," Wally answered.

"But if he was in Gotham, he clearly couldn't have committed the crime," Batman continued his reasoning, "rendering your connection useless. And kidnappings, if that is what the disappearances are, don't match his known MO."

"I know."

"But still, you're here."

"He needs to go back to prison, anyway," Wally remarked, forcing himself to stay completely unmoved when Batman suddenly changed position and crouched down next to him, looking down at the square as well. He didn't look like he was about to get up again anytime soon and Wally internally raised an eyebrow.

"You're staying?" he asked surprised.

"I don't want lunatics rampaging through my city," the answer sounded, clear and firm, a statement that couldn't be denied, doubted or argued with. So Wally didn't. He didn't even remark how it wasn't _his_ city, because it wasn't a lie entirely.

"What makes you sure he'll come _here_?" the next question sounded.

"This is the biggest square in Gotham, right? That means this is the place with the most potential victims," Wally explained, feeling an involuntary wave of pride wash over him as Batman gave him an approving nod, with that simple gesture complimenting the man's reasoning.

"What makes you believe his attack will be today?"

"That I don't know," Wally confessed with a small laugh laced through his voice, "I guess I'll just have to be lucky. Otherwise, I'll just sit here again tomorrow."

"You shouldn't," was all Batman replied before they both lapsed into a silence that was a lot more comfortable that it should've been, according to Wally.

. . .

He got lucky, though that was a word he couldn't associate with the scene that would have developed before him.

He recognised the face immediately, the sewn lips sticking out so sorely it almost physically hurt him to see it. Images of Lynn raced through his mind, even as he was racing downwards. He could hear the sound of a grapple hit the building opposite of the square and than the _swoosh_ sound of Batman's cape, sliding through air. He could see the people backing away from them as if they were the carries of the deadliest virus mankind ever witnessed. He heard panicked screams and half-formed questions, but it all didn't matter in his slowed-down world.

He grabbed Murmur's arm even before the man had seen him coming and twisted it behind his back, disarming the schizophrenic in a matter of seconds. Twisting the arm even further, he brought the man down his knees.

He thought of Lynn and Molly, of all the girls gone without a trace. He thought of how that wasn't _truly_ his fault, but still, still –

\- He pressed his lips together and kneed Murmur in the back, seemingly oblivious to the muffled sounds of pain.

He didn't hear Batman landing on the ground, but there he was, a heavy, gloved hand on his arm, easing it away before he dislocated the arm he had been holding. Wally pulled it back and lashed out again, striking his head. He watched Murmur lose consciousness. As if he was in a haze, Wally watched how Batman handcuffed Murmur to a lamp post. Police sirens could already be heard in the distance, but Wally couldn't move.

"Flash."

All he could think of was Lynn. All he could see was a little girl crying over the monster in his head and all he could tell himself that he wasn't even an inch closer to the finish line of all of this.

"Flash."

Capturing Murmur didn't really change anything at all. If anything, it just… made it worse. Now he didn't have a single lead anymore. He didn't have anything. He didn't have anything except for the warning of monsters.

" _Flash."_

He looked up and shook his head as if to free himself from his downhill train of thought.

"Flash, can I have a word with you?" Batman nodded upwards and if Wally hadn't heard the sound of the grapple, he could've sworn he _flew_ in the air. He took one last look at Murmur, hanging limply on the lamp post.

He took a few steps backwards, than raced towards the giant cathedral, quickly gaining enough speed to defy gravity and run vertically along its surface. He stopped when he saw Batman staring at the square, than directing his attention towards him again.

"I decided I'll help you with the case," he stated firmly.

Wally raised his palms towards the air in a defeating gesture. "Well, _that_ ' _s_ kind of sudden. I thought you _didn't_ want to help me. That you had enough to worry about as it is."

"I didn't think you'd let yourself be influenced by this so much."

"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?" Wally crossed his arms over his chest and suppressed the yawn that despite everything wanted to escape. God, he was so tired. So tired of rushing around and finding nothing. So tired of dreaming of monsters and waking up finding they were _still there._

"You know damn well what I mean. You're skipping meetings and you hurt Murmur a lot more than you should have," Batman reprimanded him.

"Oh, come on, don't dramatise this. I've skipped meetings before and the worst that'll happen is that he'll have a concussion. He would've killed everyone on that square if he had the chance, surely _I_ can't be blamed for hitting him."

"It's not like you."

Wally didn't know what exactly it was about that statement that made him lose all his frustration and defiance, but he still did. Perhaps it was the way it had sounded so incredibly _sincere_ instead of the reprimanding teacher tone Batman always seemed to adopt when around him. Perhaps it was the way Batman pinched the bridge of his nose as he said it, looking slightly defeated instead of stern and inhuman. Or perhaps he was just really, _really_ tired.

"That's all? You're starting to feel sorry for good old Wally getting upset over little kid?" Wally said, in a last attempt at something of a protest. It wasn't that he didn't want Batman to help him, because he _needed_ him and he _knew_ that. He needed the best of the best and that was Batman. He needed the absolute guarantee that he would find the monster, defeat it and return his princesses to the castle. Batman was the only one who could give him that.

"No. There were similar disappearances in Gotham, a few months ago. I didn't give it too much attention back then, but perhaps there is a connection."

Wally felt the world spinning as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Despite everything, he smiled.

"I guess that means we'll be working toge –" he stopped death in his sentence as he saw Batman leaving. Most days, that made him smile, to know that he was one of the few people that still always saw Batman leave. He didn't need much, just a second or two, but that was a very long time to Wally and he always saw the signs, recognised the moment he was there and when he wasn't.

He shrugged to the shadows, the emptiness of the night. Then, he leapt forwards and sprinted off the building and all the way to Central City without looking back once. He managed to get out of uniform, though he didn't bother putting it back in the ring.

Before his head hit the pillow, he was sleeping, dreaming he was running from monsters around every corner and shadows that could swallow him whole.


	4. Within the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wished he could believe defeating monsters was as easy as the Prince rescuing the Princess from the Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Failed attempt to be funny is failed (even though Rae and Code disagree… XD) **  
> Special Thanks:** to CodenameEternity for BETA'ing and always helping me out and listening to my rambling. And for encouraging me so much. I love you, darling! Also a lot of thanks to Gemi, since she always helps me, too  
>  **Note:** I assume the original seven of the league by now know the way to the Batcave. I also noticed how Batman (in the comics) often refers to Wally as 'West', using his last name. I personally like this better than saying 'Flash', so I'll mostly refer to Wally with his last name.  
>  Zatanna's portrayal is largely based upon the JLU episode "This Little Piggy" and Batman TAS episode "Zatanna", in which he refers to her with the nickname "Zanna", which will be used because for some reason, I find that adorable XD  
> And dear Lord, do I apologise for the delay. XD  
> And for screwing up Wally's character.

At the bottom of the stairs lay nothing but impenetrable darkness.

That, of course, wasn't really the case, but it was always the first thought to flash through Wally's head after the antique clock in the study was removed. The stairway was narrow and made a turn, disappearing completely into oblivion, its destination obscured by massive rocks. Even though he _knew_ that at the end lay the Batcave and there were probably more escape routes than anywhere else he'd ever been that held four walls, he still had to suppress a shiver at having the entrance closed behind him again.

This hesitation, however, passed in but a fraction of a millisecond, a time so short Wally sometimes wondered if he was the only being in this world, perhaps in the entire universe who was able to experience it. He never liked to dwell on thoughts like these, for he found them quite depressing and lonesome. As a child he had dreamt of being unique and although he loved being Flash, nowadays he just wished he remembered what it was like to be normal.

But a normal man wouldn't be standing _here_ of all places, he told himself. With that thought and a 'thank you, Alfred,' he started to descend into the cave.

He was down three seconds later. It would've cost him less time, but he wasn't much for darkness and he certainly didn't feel like tripping over a missed step somewhere in the middle and tumbling down the whole way only to scramble back to his feet under the scrutinising eye of Batman. _Bruce._

 _Definitely Batman._

"Hiya – woah! That thing is even more huge – huge-er?- than it was last time I was here!" he shouted in awe as he saw the computer Batman was positioned before in a leather armchair.

"Must be your imagination," was the only answer he got in reply.

Although Wally had sworn to himself he would be the epitome of maturity and seriousness as soon as he set foot in the cave, this was too overwhelming.  
(He had, after all, only been there one time before, a time he sincerely couldn't care less _where_ he was. All that mattered was _why_ and it was the most heart-wrenching, stomach-knotting and tear-jerking moment of his entire life.)

He sped around, dwelling particularly around the cars, babbling nonsensically and way, way too fast for Batman to decipher what he was saying.

Bruce watched the red blur seemingly materialise in front of anything Wally deemed interesting, slowing down enough for his eyes to send the image to his brain. He let him, for a while, almost enjoying the effect the Cave had on him, but he couldn't waste too much time, so he simply said: "Do you have it with you?"

It was as if his voice spoke the magic words for some kind of transformation, for Wally's behaviour flipped 180 degrees in a second. He stopped mid-sentence, leaving the cars behind him. The excited smile turned into a serious expression and he was beside Bruce in a second. There was no sign anymore of the awe he had felt before, just a fierce determination, darkening his eyes to the point of grimness.

He handed him a memory stick.

"Yes," he answered. "All the information you asked. Every volunteer, employees, the kids and blueprints of the building. I can't give you information about everyone who has access to the orphanage, though, since – well yeah, that's _everyone._ "

"Everyone?" Batman repeated, giving him this look and Wally felt anger flare at the tone of it. How easy he made everyone sound so stupid and inferior. How easy he made it sound like your _own_ fault.

"It's an _orphanage,_ " he replied and he couldn't help but sneak in a little anger. "We have a rusty old gate and a lock on the front door, and at times we didn't even have that much. People are nice, but not nice enough to pay for good orphanages, Batman."  
He couldn't say Bruce. Didn't want to. He found out the wrong way, he kept thinking, he didn't want to know it like that. Not when one of his best friends turned out to be a spy and there was no other choice. It wasn't trust. It wasn't like trust at all. He couldn't say Bruce. He couldn't say Bruce until he got the permission. Until it _meant_ something. Until it was more than just a hollow sound.

Batman didn't look at him, going through the information on the huge screen and Wally paced through the Batcave. He crossed it and then went back again, passed the dinosaur, passed the giant penny, passed the worn-out costumes. Back again and back again and back again, like the thoughts in his head, always going backwards, rewinding until they paused.

Pause. Stop.

There was a girl without a tongue and bleeding wrists.

Stop. Rewind. He was watching a rerun of a horror film he didn't want to see.

He didn't even realise Batman had gotten up, but he had apparently and he threw something at him, something he caught only because it was a reflex, not because he had wanted to. It was a bag, he realised and he frowned.

"Surveillance cameras," Batman explained. Wally knew he was still frowning, still obviously looking utterly _confused_ and Batman was giving him exactly the kind of look that made this little _collaboration_ a very bad idea, as he added: "We're going to need evidence when we find the culprit."

Wally nodded, willing his dumb-founded look away. "Thanks." It was the only thing he could think of saying. He was completely ignored.

"Install them when no one's looking," he _commanded_ and Wally bit his lip but nodded anyway. He reminded himself that he had been the one asking help. It wasn't the time for pride or dignity. He could manage being bossed around. He could swallow that. He just wanted his kids to be safe.

"Sure thing," he replied. He fiddled with the bag and then chose to put it down.

"Don't tell anyone about it either."

"I'm not _stupid_ ," he hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh, but it did. His voice echoed in the silence that followed and he had to force himself not to bolt. It was the damn Cave, he thought, how could anyone possibly be in this place without going absolutely mental? It was high and dark and ominous and the bats lingered around like a constant promise of fear. He longed for the Mansion above, drenched in light and art, glassworks and the smell of the garden blowing through open windows.

"No, you're not," Batman surprisingly agreed, eyes now directed at him. "You're just childishly naïve."  
(There was an undeniable sadness there, an exclamation mark painted in the colour of regret, but Wally refused to hear it.)

"Am not!" Wally protested.

"Even now, you already have a whole list of people who can't have anything do to with this, based on not a single fact but your feeling that they're good people, haven't you?" Batman looked at him for a while, just a sideway glance, eerie white lenses directed at him, the smallest smile upon his lips.  
(Wally couldn't tell whether he was mocking him or something else. He couldn't tell anything about the armoured man in front of him.)

Wally tried his best not to look completely like a child who had been caught doing something wrong, but he had the hardest time. Shame gushed through him, almost immediately followed by a much stronger feeling of anger.

"You _can_ know those things!" he argued back.  
(Not _everyone_ in this world is evil, he wanted to say. Not everyone brings death and destruction. You're just fucking paranoid. Don't you trust anyone and just how fucked up _are_ you? Don't you think I know the difference between good and bad?)

"No, you can't," the same smile answered him, a hollow grimace-like expression. "You refuse to see the evil in people."

He snorted. "I didn't come here for a psycho-analysis."  
(I know of evil, he felt like screaming, you're not the only one who suffered, suffers. He knew of fathers who beat up their wives, their sons. He knew of hiding under the covers unable to pray to a God that couldn't possibly be there, hoping he wouldn't come. He knew of girls left alone in gutters to die, he knew of men who wanted to see the world burn and spin into chaos. He knew, he knew.)

He gave him a grin, but he was getting more worked up every second. A few bats flew over his head and he cringed. He was sure Batman saw him do it, but he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything for a very long time, in which the only sound was the occasional flapping of leather wings (and god, how _creepy_ was that?) and the sound of his fingers on the keyboard. Wally remained still, until the picture of Lynn's maimed face popped up. He inhaled sharply and looked away.

"I'm starting to feel like a broken record or something, but I'd just really like to say that that wasn't a suicide attempt," Wally said, but the humour fell flat in his voice.  
(There wasn't anything laughable about this, except maybe his own incompetence.)

"I know."

Wally had already gotten ready to defend that opinion, like he had done with Delmar, like he would do a million times over to get people to care about her, but the words died on his tongue. He impersonated a fish for a few seconds, then found his dignity back and said: "What?"

"I know," Batman repeated. "Children have a very strong sense of survival. Even those hopeless cases, as one might call them, still choose life above death. All she probably wanted was to see her parents again."

Wally couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. It wasn't pity, he would never in his entire life be able to associate that feeling with the man. But in that moment, the lights of the monitors dancing across his face, radiating a suppressed sadness like warmth for a heating system, he looked so much like the little orphans coming into the big house that would be their home from then on for the very first time.

Wally put his hand on Bruce's shoulder without thinking. The realisation came a few seconds later and he retracted his hand again, feeling the muscles tense underneath, but Batman was already glaring at him. Wally gave him an awkward smile back, but couldn't find any words to defend himself.  
(He shouldn't feel so damn guilty, he thinks. It's not like he did something wrong. It was a reflex, he wasn't thinking. He shouldn't feel guilty at all.)

Wally was thankful when Alfred descended the stairs, carrying a tray with steaming cups and biscuits. It was a welcome distraction. He forced himself to wait politely until Alfred offered stood still, instead of eating everything before he even blinked. Almost guiltily, he took a cup and sipped, feeling Batman's gaze still focused on him.  
(God, the gaze. He was a deer in the headlights, the criminal caught by the officer's flashlight. He was the lamb carrying the sins of everyone under God's disapproving gaze.)

Alfred's polite and friendly smile did little to erase the feeling of discomfort, but he still returned it.

"Alfred, would you be as kind as showing West the way out? He was just leaving."

Wally wondered if it would always be like this, being ushered away with a word, without an argument. He didn't want to stay, so he let himself be led away.

"If you find something, please tell me as soon as you can," he said over his shoulder, unnecessarily. There was no reaction and he left without looking back.

. . .

"I swear to God! If this wasn't so damn important, I wouldn't spend a second longer than _absolutely frigging necessary_ in that man's presence! He managed to piss me off in under five minutes and he's not even _trying_!" Wally ended with a frustrated noise, pulling his hair. He paused for a whole second. "Then again, maybe he is. He probably is. Most likely is. _Definitely_ is."

John laughed at his rambling friend and handed him another cooled beer to drink his sorrows, while keeping his attention mostly at Lilo and Stitch playing, despite having it all seen before.

"The real surprise here is that he even agreed to help you," John said when Wally had calmed down a little. "And that _you_ asked _him_ to help."

"I agree with the first one and call the second one logical."

John gave him a look.

"Well, he's a detective, right?" he stretched the last vowel. "And once he starts something, he'll get all bat-shit crazy obsessed about it and I can be sure it gets solved. I certainly don't want to stroke that man's ego, but yeah, he's the only who can really help me with that."

"Well, _I_ disagree on that one," John said back in the same way Wally had answered earlier.

"Oh?" Wally said as he tore his eyes from the screen to glance at his friend. "Who else then?"

John rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe one of your pretty close friends who happens to own a ring –"

"Oh, right! Right! Like when you traced monkeys or man-haters!"

" _Exactly,_ " John affirmed. "Maybe I could still find some traces. Even though by now the kids probably messed most of it up, I should still be able to track down something."

John tried to ignore the look in Wally's eyes was almost eerily sincere. "Thank you, man."

"Well, with a brain like that, I'm not surprised you need someone else to do the thinking part for you," he said mockingly, just to get the usual smile back on Wally's face.

Wally stuck out his tongue and smiled.

"Asshole," he fired back, as he grabbed a cooled beer can from the tabled and buried in the crook of John's neck as revenge. John made a sound that Wally could only define as a squeak and he seemed to have noticed, for his eyes widened and then narrowed in an evil manner. The marine punched him in the shoulder, but Wally only pressed harder on the can. The next attack came in the form of a pillow, smashed at Wally's head. His cheek got hit and he dropped the can, only to wrap his now empty fingers around a pillow as he fired back. The hitting continued for a while, until John's voice feigned horror and said: "Wait! Wait! What are we _doing_?"

Wally lowered his pillow cautiously, in case this was a diversion, as a thoughtful look spread over his face.

"I believe we were having a pillow fight –"

"In our pyjamas –"

"Like _real_ girls –"

"That's enough beer for tonight," they both finished in perfect unison and nodded to give the statement some power. They lapsed into a determined silence, their attention turned to the film before them. They pointedly ignored the unopened beer cans on the saloon table. It lasted a whole 15.3 seconds.

" _Winny,_ pass me another beer, will you?"

"Sure thing, _Jane._ "

. . .

"So, who of you believes in magic?"

With each arm slung over the shoulder of a beautiful woman, Bruce Wayne's attention was solemnly dedicated to the woman on the stage.

His right arm was wrapped around the slim waste of super model Belle Tonnere. With legs that seemed to stretch on for miles, firm, round breasts and huge blue eyes, there wasn't a single man who could deny the fact that she truly did live up to her name. She wore a baby blue dress that did nothing to hide her proportions, but rather accentuate them and matched her eyes perfectly. Her long, light blonde hair was held out of her face by a series of hair pins in a pattern that resembled a jig-saw puzzle. The jewellery she wore seemed to be all from the same set, a darker blue that matched her high heels. She didn't take any of the food offered, but took every glass of champagne she could reach. She was leaning heavily on him and openly (to the point where Bruce was starting to feel embarrassed for her) flirting with him, keeping her voice in perfect control.

On his left was the more serious Lindsay Johnson, the original date Alfred had set him up with. She was the daughter of some glorified idiot, tagging along to glamorous, exclusive parties because of daddy. She wore a dark pencil skirt and lighter designer top. She had given up on trying to start a conversation, always being interrupted by Belle and she had apparently decided that just passively staying by his side and watching Zatanna's magic show was good enough. He still wasn't quite sure how he had gotten Belle attached to him like a Velcro strip.

He had subtly placed himself near a great window, from which he was sure he could see the Batsignal lit. The sky, however, just showed dark storm clouds, so he focused his attention once more on Zatanna's performance. He had known Zatanna for a long time and watched many of her shows, but he never got tired of it. Normally, he tried to figure out as many of her non-magic tricks, but tonight his attention wasn't entirely with the show. He thought about little kids and all the sick people out there wanting to hurt them. And all the things that weren't even human, that came from a world he didn't even believe in, but could hurt just as easily.

He was shaken from his thoughts when the crowd started applauding. Zatanna took a bow, spotted him across the crowd and smiled.

. . .

"So, which one did you figure out? The one with the doves? Or one of my card tricks?" she smiled as soon he entered the backstage of the podium she had been on moments earlier.

"None, actually," he said. "This isn't exactly a social call."

Her smile didn't falter, despite the coldness of his tone. She turned around, making a show of searching the room. "Okay! Just tell me where the piggy is."

"Zanna," he admonished her, crossing his arms over his chest.

She winked and smiled, hopping on the desk, leaning against the mirror, shaking her head playfully. "Still the only one who calls me that… And I _still_ hate it."

"No, you don't," he said smugly.

She smiled but didn't answer. After a few moments of silence, she grew equally serious and, as she brushed a strand of black hair out of her face, asked: "So, what do you need me for?"

"I need you to check a crime scene for any magical residue."

. . .

This _wasn't_ the kind of crime scene she was expecting. In fact, this was about the last thing she would've thought of. _Dared_ to think of.

A sudden, heavy feeling of horror settled in her chest, slowly spreading around. She didn't want to know what happened here, what happened so horribly that Bruce believed no human being could do this.

She was standing in the grand hall of the Central City orphanage. To her left was a large window, where five or six children had pressed their noses against to get a better look, pointing and whispering against the kid next to them, a look of undisguised, innocent awe upon their faces as she smiled and waved.

Her heart sunk a little further.

She threw a sideway glance at Green Lantern John Stewart's face, but he just gritted his teeth together a little harder. She concluded that he had already known. Figured, Bruce had been the one to ask her, and he never really told _anything_. Flash, on the other hand, she imaged, would've told the story in all its detail.

Flash walked to the window and softly knocked against it to get the children's attention. They looked up caught, but he smiled softly and shook his head, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. After that, he made a little show of clumsily imitating football, managing to distract the kids enough to send them on their way.

He turned around and rubbed the back of his head, giving both of them an apologising smile.

"Yeah, sorry for that. They're just really curious," he smiled. He clapped his hands and shook his head, as if getting rid of a bad image and flashed them a bright smile. "Okay! Without further ado, let's get to business, shall we?"

John nodded to Zatanna. "Ladies first."

"Okay," she agreed, getting out her magic wand. With a graceful twirl, she said: "Dnif cigam secart."

John waited for the obligatory 'I've gotta get me one of those' joke from Wally, but nothing came. Instead, his friend was solemnly captivated by the display before them. Zatanna held her wand before her, moving slowly in a sweeping manner, a concentrated look on her face. After a while she shook her head and turned back to the two men, saying: "I can't find anything here."

Wally nodded seriously, a little relief on his face. "Thank you for trying," he said politely.

John didn't waste any words, just started looking for signs. Most of it was, indeed, messed up by the kids that had been playing there. He found the residue of the blood, a stain that was still there despite being cleaned. Wally averted his eyes.

"I think I got something," John said then as he took a few steps forwards and kneeled down. Wally kneeled down as well and Zatanna peeked over his shoulder.

"Looks like a shoe?" Wally inquired.

"Yeah," John agreed, "probably size 11 or something. A man's shoe, in any case."

The professionalism with which Wally produces a ruler and a camera were almost scary. Without a word, he placed it next to the print, completely straight and took a few pictures of it.

John gave him an incredulous look.

Wally gave him something resembling a glare back. " _What?_ I _do_ work at a police lab, you know!"

"I thought you only ate bagels there?" John retorted, then turning serious again. "Okay, let's see where he went to."

They followed the trail towards the window, where it ended. Both Wally and John studied the window closer, Zatanna feeling pretty much like a third wheel by now.

"There," Wally pointed suddenly. "A fibre?"

"Looks like it, yes," John says, willing a little a little pair of tweezersinto existence. Again, Wally produced a little plastic bag, used for storing evidence and John had to try pretty hard not to let his eyebrows go up again or smile.

There was nothing amusing about the grim look on Wally's face, though.

. . .

"Zatanna didn't find anything, but John found a footprint and a fibre. I'm running a DNA test on it tomorrow," Wally said as he blew over his tea, sending the steam dancing away.

Bruce looked at him over his shoulder for a moment, as if to acknowledge Wally was there, then looked back at the screen, clicking away at a few files. Wally stood by his side as he recognised it was the file he had given to him earlier, and alongside it another file he didn't recognise.

"There's a pretty high chance that fibre is from one of the kids around, though," Wally admitted, more to not get his own hopes up than to inform Batman of this fact.

Wally took a sip of his tea and then told Bruce about the footprint they found, but that without anyone to compare it too, it didn't get them that much further. He fell silent after that for a while as he watched Bruce do some things on the screen. He stared at the green liquid in his cup and felt exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He was also quite hungry, which his stomach loudly agreed to. He blushed and apologised for the loud grumbling, but Bruce ignored it, instead saying: "We should make a profile."

"Like they do in Criminal Minds?" Wally retorted, looking over his shoulder, half-expecting Alfred to walk in and give him something to eat. He was gravely disappointed when the butler's ninja senses failed to hear his desperate cry for food.

Bruce didn't give him a look, but Wally could _swear_ he heard a bit of amusement in his voice as he sighed: "You really _do_ watch too much television."

Wally laughed. "There's always that chance, yes, but I always wanted to do that in real life. Can I be Gideon? You should be Hotch. You'd make a really good Hotch. Or maybe Reid? Well, not that you're socially awkward, I mean, you're _not,_ and, and… I should really stop talking?"

"Preferably, yes," Batman agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wally smiled awkwardly, tugging on the lightning bolt on his mask. "Profile, then?"

"The suspect is mostly likely male, in his late twenties or early thirties, most likely unmarried and living either alone or with his parents. There's a fair chance he already has been arrested for violent crimes and had a legitimate reason for being in the area of the kidnapping," Batman stated factual, and Wally tried his best not to look impressed, but probably failed.

"You really know _everything_ don't you?" he said and he couldn't help but smile like he used to when his uncle Barry told him something incredibly cool about being a speedster.

Batman seemed to hesitate a tiny second, before he turned to Wally and said: "Of course, I do."

Wally grinned, until a sudden realisation hit him, the smile slipping from his lips. "Wait, wait, back up a little there. 'A legitimate reason to be there'? Do you mean somehow who works in the orphanage?"

"Yes, that's very likely," Batman replied, still in his matter-of-fact tone that, for some reason, kept annoying the hell out of Wally.

"More like very _un_ likely!" he protested. "Look, I _know_ those people, I _do_. And I can tell you that none of them would do anything to hurt those children, _ever_."

"Then why didn't Lynn scream for help?" Batman reasoned.

Wally held back a sigh and decided not to make more of a fuss. "I know this one! She knew that person and didn't find a reason to be alarmed. Meaning it was someone from the orphanage." He leant closer, a smug smile on his face and continued: "Impressed yet?"

Batman didn't even dignify that with a response, but gave him a look that answered that question rather negatively.

"Okay," Wally continued, stretching the last vowel. "How about this one? I know with which drugs she was given, we could see which local pharmacists sell those and show them pictures of everyone in the orphanage and people who visit often that match the profile and see if the owners recognise anyone who bought the meds around the time of the," Wally hesitated slightly, thinking of Lynn, " _incident._ " Wally paused, then grinned. "You can tell me you're impressed now."

Batman gave him a smile that was nothing more than a slight lifting of his lips, a mere suggestion of a smile, but his voice was serious: "I'm starting to wonder if you need my help with this. You do quite fine by yourself."

"Awwh," Wally said mockingly, "you're so desperate to get me to leave you'll resort to flattery?" Without leaving that open for a reply he knew he wouldn't get, Wally continued. "So, I'll run past the local shops tomorrow and catch the bad guy and get Molly back and - I so don't like that expression on your face right now."

"Wally," Batman said, his voice all seriousness now, a grim edge around his lips. "It's been a week since Molly has disappeared and no ransom demand has been made. The chance she will still be alive when we find her is minimal."

Wally gritted his teeth, but nodded understandingly. He tried a grin, but it fell flat. He sought for a reply, but nothing seemed to be quite right so he settled for silence instead, until he looked up and said: "I should probably go. I want to check up on Lynn anyway and I think you had your daily dosage of Wallyness. It's pretty easy to OD on that, it's why people like me and Chuck Norris have to limit our time we spend with people."

"I can imagine," Batman replied, with a voice that could both mean that as an insult or a very strange compliment.

Wally flashed him a grin then made his way to the stairs, only to stop there, his foot on the first step, the other still on the solid ground of the cave. He looked over his shoulder to Batman, already furiously typing away and checking over some files.

"Also, thank you," he said, his voice echoing in the cave eerily. He tried not to flinch but most likely failed.

Batman stopped typing for a second and looked at Wally over his shoulder, silently inquiring.

"For saying _when_ and not _if_ ," Wally clarified and smiled. Batman nodded solemnly in reply.

. . .

Nessa pulled up her legs as she tried to nestle more comfortably in the painful hospital chairs. She slowly brushed a strand of hair out of Lynn's pale face.

"She looks so _small_ ," she whispered.

On the edge of the bed Wally sat, his eyes focused on the monitor that showed Lynn's vital scenes. He was fidgeting, rocking his leg, but other than that completely still, his face almost as pale as Lynn's. At Nessa's words he looked at the sleeping girl, green eyes sporting a distance look, but didn't respond.

"It's as if she's going to _drown_ in those blankets," Nessa carried on, her voice choking.

Wally got off the bed and crossed the room in two long strides and gave Nessa a smile, as he said: "We won't let her."

Nessa ran the back of her hand across her eyes. "We won't," she agreed.

"I'm going to find whoever did this, and whoever took Molly and the others, okay?" Wally stated firmly, a voice that left no room for doubt or disagreements.

Nessa smiled softly, pressing her forehead against his chest. "I know you will. Of all the places I've ever been, I don't think I've ever seen anyone care as much as you do."

Wally patted her on the head, which then turned into slowly caressing her long hair. "You're not doing that bad yourself."

Nessa smiled and looked up again, shrugging shyly. "I can't help it, they're just so lovely. They keep me young, I guess," she laughed and Wally joined in.

"You know," Nessa started after they quieted down. "The nurse said she can probably hear us, even now. Do you think she would like us to tell her a story?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Wally sat down on the edge of the bed again, clearing his throat and Nessa pulled her knees even closer to herself, laying her cheek on them, gazing at both Wally and Lynn.

"Once upon a time," Wally started, "in a castle far, far away, there was a Princess…"

As he tried to talk over the constant beep of the ECG and the dripping of the IV, he wished he could believe defeating monsters was as easy as the Prince rescuing the Princess from the Dragon, unharmed and perfectly save.


	5. Illuminating Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was only the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of murder, obviously. Nothing too graphic, I hope. Some strong language.  
>  **Thanks to:** DarkPhoenixIncarnate, for helping me out a lot (and I do mean a whole fucking lot), for being my BETA (for content, style) and always encouraging me. Sorry for the delay, love! And to CodenameEternity, for BETA'ing for grammar.  
> I also really want to thank everyone so far who has taken to time to comment, fave and/or alert, because I really do appreciate that! Thank you so much for your kind words everyone.  
>  **Wordcount** : 5,759  
>  **Note:** since I had quite a few comments asking me why Wally isn't a suspect, I thought I should fix that. I don't really know too much about Barry, but he seems like a father-figure kind of person to Wally and I thought I couldn't really mess him up in ... five sentences or something. If I did, though, please do tell me XD  
> It is perfectly possible Wally's alibi does not make any sense whatsoever and a better one could easily be thought of. I tried, let's hope it pays off.

Wally was greeted by the clock in the kitchen of his flat showing an absolutely furious 3 am in bright red digital numbers. He didn't bother flicking on the lights, knew the way by heart and he was only passing through. He bumped into the corner of the table and made a face as the bruise started to form, knowing it would be gone by the time the sun would come up again. Tiredly, he made his way to the living room, dwelling in the doorway for a couple of moments while he debated whether to get some sleep or go over the facts again.

Knowing the first option would be useless, he decided to go with the second. Every second could mean the difference. The big difference, the one that deserved a capital letter D. The Difference between life and death.

He tried desperately not to think of Batman's words, still repeating over and over in his mind, like a messed up mantra.

Once in the living room, he flicked on the lights and cursed against the sharp pain flashing through his head as his pupils adjusted to the sudden contrast. He made a lazy leap across the room and ended up in his couch, face first, buried in a single pillow pushed against the arm rest.

For a few moments, he remained absolutely motionless, trying to still his mind, to bring it to a full stop, to think of nothing at all, not of Batman's words, not of sliced wrists, not of bloodstained floors, just nothing at all.

He thought of Lynn's desperate eyes, blood dripping from her lips and he shot up again, grabbing for the papers on his coffee table. So far, all he had was notes he scribbled down himself. He shot another look at the clock, almost feeling cheated when only a few minutes seemed to have passed. He wondered how badly he would annoy Batman by stopping by now. Not that he was likely to sleep at this hour, perhaps he was still patrolling. The bag in which he stored the fibre and the picture of the footprint were laying on the coffee table as well. Perhaps it was better to wait four more hours, have breakfast and pretend to go to work early and run the DNA test at work.

Then again. Gotham was just a few minutes running away and having to wait four more hours seemed like the plot of the kind of horror film Wally really shouldn't watch anymore. He tapped his fingers on the coffee table to a non-existing beat as he tried to come up with a decision.

A last glance at the clock and Wally decided that even if Batman was still awake, he really _shouldn't_ be and Alfred might not appreciate him stealing the few hours of sleep 'Master Bruce' had left by barging in. Not that he'd ever admit it, much too polite and kind for that.

Wally frowned at the window, as if the empty streets were the cause of the tightness in his chest. The street lamps were still on, illuminating the pavement, abandoned. His eyes felt like burning and he vaguely realised he was _really_ tired and he shouldn't be awake anymore either and the rational part of his brain told him that going over the notes he had in this state would be absolutely useless.

He really should get some sleep. Or at least _try_ to.

He leaned back in the couch, eyes on the piece of paper he was holding, but not seeing anything. He got up again, as a wave of _rage_ came over him, overwhelming in power and intensity. He walked to the kitchen, to try and divert his thoughts, shake of the feeling, restless, deciding flicking on the lights was worth it and opened the fridge, frowning at how ridiculously empty it was. There was a half-full bottle of milk left and he knew there was some cereal in the cupboard. He took the bottle and placed it on the table, opened the cupboard, put it on the table, grabbed a bowl, put it on the table, became incredibly annoyed at the routine by the time he got the spoon and closed the fridge by hitting it with his hip.

The bottle cap of the milk refused to open and Wally's hand slipped on it, bruising slightly and -

 _Screw this,_ Wally thought.

Suddenly fed up with the _whole world_ he grabbed the bottle, gritted his teeth and smashed it across the room. He watched it fly towards the open door, then suddenly realised just _what_ he did and what a mess it would bring, made a dash for it, and intercepted it before it would hit the frame and breaking apart, milk spilling on the wood and the floor all the same, glass shards flying through the air.

"Fuck, _fuck,_ " he cursed and the sound of his voice, strangely broken and full of weird hitches made it all _worse_ and he cursed again, and again, until he was too tired to do even that, slumping against the door frame and sinking to his knees, until he sat on the ground, the bottle of milk between his legs. Forcing himself to look at his hand, he confirmed that there was nothing actually wrong and he was being obnoxiously _childish_ about this. All of it. _Childish and useless._

He got on his knees, grabbing the bowl and the cereal, using the box to swipe the spoon of the table.

His stomach felt like it was on fire and it wasn't because of the lack of food in it. He shook the box and concentrated on the way the cereal fell into the bowl, then on the way the milk poured from the bottle after successfully removing the cap, the sound the cereal made between his teeth, trying to calm down, just _calm down._ He would get nothing done by being a mess. Lynn wouldn't get better because he was smashing bottles towards the wall, or cursing the world. Hell, _he_ wouldn't feel any better.

He just needed to calm down.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths. The way his Uncle Barry told him to do when he would loose control, remembering the way he would say _it will be alright,_ gentle and calm and unfazed, as if he never forgot just how exactly breathing was done, as if the world never turned too slowly, as if he'd never lost a single battle in his life.

It had been so many years, but Wally still wished he could be like that.

. . .

The annoyingly loud and constant beeping of his alarm clock shook him out of his reverie. He pushed himself off the floor and put the bowl in the sink, his movements entirely automatic. He tried not to think too hard of how once more he didn't sleep at all, tried not to think too hard of anything, focusing on his actions, focusing on putting the milk in the fridge, focusing on the way the door opened and closed. Thoughtlessly, Wally changed into clothes that weren't all wrinkled and threw a quick look at himself in the mirror, instantly regretting it.

There was something unnerving about looking in the mirror, about looking at his own reflection and seeing red-rimmed eyes, green like he remembered them to be. Still his, as well, but he couldn't quite place the look anchored in them. Couldn't quite recognise himself and he decided he didn't want to go down there, didn't want to follow that train of thoughts, for the railways would bring it into dark places and Wally never really liked those.

He averted his eyes again, splashing cold water in his face to get rid of the sleepy look, combed his hair just for the sake of it, grabbed his keys, managed to get his shoes on without a single thought and then slowly walked to the coffee table. He felt a strange wave of sickness rushing over him again as he bend over and took the plastic bag containing the fibre, folded it neatly and put in his briefcase (which looked so sophisticated he simply _had_ to buy it out of sheer irony) and -

Lynn's eyes were huge and hazy, staring at a point in the distance where something had happened, a point in time she couldn't undo, couldn't erase, staring right _through_ him, staring right _past_ him and -

There were three knocks and one "Central City Police, open the door please," before Wally _realised_ someone was actually at _his_ door and he frowned deeply, as if the air would tell him _why_ the police was at his door. He felt a slight moment of hope at the thought they finally put someone on the case, then a wry taste as it dawned on him that this wouldn't exactly be a visit to tell him that.

"Just a second," he screamed, while he thought, _great, just what I needed._

He quickly checked if his smile was polite enough in the mirror (a little lopsided and tired around the edges, but sure, it would suffice) and opened the door.

"Sorry," he apologised, then forcing his lips to spread a little wider. In the door opening stood a woman, tanned skin, brown eyes, brown hair in a low ponytail, and he recognised her as Liz Turner. She was a pleasant woman, easy with her smiles and kind advice. Next to her stood a man he didn't recognise, but whose glare could rival that of another blue-eyed, dark-haired person he knew. Well, not really, but it was still scary. Wally hadn't seen him around yet, which told him he was either very new or not even ranked high enough to deliver the evidence.

"How can I help you, Agent Turner, Agent ...," he said politely and trailed off so the man could fill in his own name.

"Foster," he said sharply.

"Wally," Liz smiled fondly. "Actually, we were hoping you could answer some questions for us."

"At the station," Foster clarified, a small smile around the corner of his lips.

Wally tried to smile politely. "Of course, let me just call my boss I'll be a little late."

"That won't be necessary," Foster interjected again. "He won't be expecting you today."

"Partner..." Liz trailed off, frowning slightly. "Perhaps this isn't the best time..."

Wally threw a look at Foster and didn't even _care_ if it was still polite, feeling a suspicion dawning.

"We'll tell you in the car," Liz tried, smiling a little, but it was off and Wally felt the feeling set in stronger.

Fuck, he thought again, this was going to be one of those awful, _awful_ days that always seemed to last forever. The smile on Foster's face didn't ease that feeling at all.

. . .

Wally held a staring contest with the wall in front of him, scowling. He was getting rather professional in this whole wall gazing thing. His scowl deepened as he remembered the gloating sparkle in Foster's eyes as he told Wally he'd been suspended on ground of suspicion of the disappearances at the orphanage.

 _Suspended._

They had made him hand in his badge and clearance card and all the while that asshole had _smiled_ like he had done something heroically awesome and Wally had gritted his teeth and reminded himself punching an officer in the eye wasn't going to help his case.

Didn't mean he couldn't _think_ about it though.

It wasn't like he didn't _get_ the suspension, of course, they wouldn't let a prime suspect anywhere near evidence. But that fact, like everything else, didn't make it any less annoying.

After that, they had taken him down the station. A quick glance at his watch told him he had been here for already 47 minutes and 28 seconds exactly. Something had 'come up'.

He knew the tricks.

He knew they would make him wait almost an hour, Liz would perhaps apologise, Foster wouldn't bother at _all_ , just to make him feel useless and captured, just to show he _could_ and there was nothing Wally could do about it. Getting the suspect on edge so he'd spat out things in his anger, in his annoyance, not think as clear. It was all a show, these interrogations, intimidation and power.

Wally knew all of this and was _still_ annoyed at it. This was just a waste of time, time he _needed_. Every second lost made the chance of finding Molly smaller, of finding any of his girls back. He should be working, non-stop, annoying the hell out of Batman, rivalling his obsession levels and he should be racing around town, and he should be doing _something._

Instead, he waited. Waited. _Waited._

From the corner of his eyes, Wally could see the door fly open, and even though he'd seen the moment from miles away, he pretended to jump in his chair when the door hit the wall hard. Foster, satisfied with the result, walked around Wally, standing his full height and Wally followed him with his eyes, pretending to be impressed.

It kept him from outwardly being annoyed.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Liz smiled fondly and closed the door, sitting down.

Second time being right today, he was on a roll.

Foster slammed down his file, flipping it open. Wally pretended to jump again, just slightly, fidget in his chair.

"Eight girls," he stated. "Eight orphans."

He slid the pictures harshly in Wally's direction. Wally swallowed, preparing to see the familiar faces. When he did, his heart trashed against his ribcage painfully and he felt something cold settling in his stomach, something like ice, something clawing and biting.

"All gone missing."

He shifted again, trying to get the pressure building in his chest away, fidgeting slightly. The air was getting harder to breathe, his muscles ached from being still so long, he wanted to run, he wanted to move, he needed air. _God_. He needed _air._ The walls seemed to be pressing closer and all of sudden he became aware of how _small_ the room was, how close he was to the walls, how close the concrete was to him, how airtight the door seemed to be locked. He stared at the double glass window, trying to see through it. _  
_His eyes ghosted over the pictures of the smiling faces of those children he loved so much and would probably never see again, his eyes straining in the bad light.  
(Wally liked to pretend it was the only reason his eyes felt like burning.)

"And then there's this girl. Number nine."

He slammed the picture down this time, his hands obscuring what was shown, then lifted it and Wally bit his lip. He'd seen the image a thousand times, but it _still_ made him sick and there was something about the rationality, the methodical way of picturing only Lynn's open wrists and sliced tongue that hit him like a punch in the gut. As if all she had been reduced to was this, blood and open wounds, evidence and pieces and nothing else. As if she wasn't Lynn Sullivan at all, not a girl he taught how to ride a bike, not a girl who liked drawing butterflies more than princesses and loved The Little Mermaid most of all the Disney films.

Just evidence in another horrible police case, just a picture in a file.

"Now, would you care to tell us what exactly happened that night, Friday the 17th, between midnight and one am? And don't even _bother_ telling us you weren't there. We have witnesses enough."

Wally tried to control the sickness he felt and blinked against the burning behind his eyes, and he must've looked a lot more pained that he realised, because Liz smiled fondly, softly. "It's alright, Wally, just tell us your side of the story."

Wally nodded, keeping his eyes off the pictures, looking at Liz's face instead.

"I'd stayed at the orphanage, for Lynn's nightmares. She'd been having them for a while now," he started, trying to keep his voice on the same level. "She woke up and went to the bathroom, a little after midnight. I waited for her, for what must've been fifteen, twenty minutes? Something like that, I suppose. I thought she might have taken the chance to get herself some milk or something from the kitchen so I went out to check on her. That's when," he swallowed, gesturing at the picture without looking, "that's when I found her like that. I treated her wounds as good as I could and then took off to the hospital. Half way through, I saw Flash running around, on patrol or coming back from something, or whatever, and I called out to him and he took over from there."

"Well, that's _convenient_ ," Rick replied, unimpressed, raising an eyebrow. "He just happened to be there? Walking around, right place, right time?"

" _Luckily,_ he was, yes," Wally snapped, a little harsher than he meant to, swallowing back his anger. "With all due respect, but if Flash hadn't shown up, Lynn might've not _made_ it. I wouldn't call that _convenience_. I'd call that _luck._ "

"So, if I get this straight," Foster summarised, dismissing Lynn's saved life like it was of no importance. "You were around at the time of the attempted murder, you were the last person to see this girl and you didn't notice a little girl being brutally attacked? Is that correct?"

Wally clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails digging in his skin, feeling the blood leave his face as the muscles tensed underneath his skin, the way he did before he'd land a punch. The walls were coming in closer still and he had a strange moment where he realised the words _I understand_ in response to Shayera's claustrophobic attacks wouldn't be out of pure politeness anymore. The air was like fog, like there wasn't enough oxygen for three people in this tiny, tiny room and he felt something like acid spreading in his veins, forgot how to speak all together at the insinuation.  
( _Slowly_ now, _slowly_. Inhale, exhale. Losing control will do no good. Inhale, exhale. Stay calm, stay controlled. He was only doing his job, only covering grounds. He didn't mean anything. He was innocent. He couldn't help it. She made no sound, _she made no sound._ How was he supposed to know if there was nothing but silence, how was he supposed to know?)

"It's alright Wally, we're not saying you _did_ it, but you have to understand, that story is a little ... _suspicious_ ," Liz interjected calmly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Sometimes the truth is, Liz," Wally replied, making sure to look straight in her brown eyes, digging up old memories. "How about the Fields case? If _that_ wasn't a suspicious truth, I don't know what is. But it _was_ the truth, wasn't it? _We_ proved that. You did some good thinking and I brought you the evidence. We proved that, we managed to pull it off. I'm sure _stranger_ things have happened."

"Yes, of course," Liz said soothingly.

"You can ask Katie, I told her when I left," Wally said. "I told her I would stay with Lynn, for the nightmares. I just -" he covered his eyes with his hands, dragging out the process blinking, dragging out the process of breathing, dragging out the moment, trying to find a little strength and energy. "I just wanted her to stop having nightmares."

"Drop the act," Foster gritted out as he slammed his fist down the table again, leaning over it until Wally could smell his breath, notice a small scar running over his cheekbone. "You think we're falling for it? I'll _tell_ you what _I_ think! _I_ think you're a sick fuck who likes those kids a little _too_ much. Spending so much time at that orphanage, taking _really_ good care of those kids, I can _imagine._ I think you like the little girls, getting off on the way they scream! Tell me, is it the _sound_ she makes, or the _face_ when you -"

"Rick!" Liz interjected. " _Partner._ "

"I think you fucked up somehow, I think she fought a little too much, made a little too much noise and they were going to find you out," he continued his tirade, walking around Wally again, leaning down until his mouth was right next to Wally's ear. "I think I'm going to enjoy putting you behind bars, asshole."

Wally dug his nails in his jeans, blinking and dragging out the progress, as if he never wanted to open his eyes again. He felt something burning in the back of his throat, burning like acid, burning like all the words he would like to say, all the things he wanted to do and couldn't.  
He forced himself to breathe despite the burning, turning his head slowly until he was looking straight into agent Foster's eyes.

"I think you should get some serious evidence to back that up, Agent Foster."

"Oh, I will," he spit back, straightening up again.

"Wally, we'll solve this case, promise," Liz took over again, her soft, gentle voice terribly out of place. "We will find some justice for these girls, whoever did it, alright?" She stood up, as if nothing had happened, walking to the door and opened it. "If you remember anything at all, let us know."

"Of course," Wally spoke tensely. "Good day, Agent Foster, Agent Turner."

He walked away, ignoring the stares of colleagues and the whispers around his back, his head held high, every step seeming to take an eternity. The twenty metres of distance between the room he had just exited and the door seemed like a distance he would never be able to cross, a race that would take his life by the time he reached the finished line.

His hand on the doorknob felt like liberation and he barely made sure to be out of sight of any curious onlookers before he changed in super speed and _ran_.

. . .

The world at super speed had a certain eerily beautiful quality about it. Since his first experimental run nearing the speed of sound, Wally had loved the stillness off the world around him, the way everything seemed so clear and calm. In motion, everything seemed brighter, colours more vivid, moments caught before they could fled. Even though his speed caused the images his brain received to be slightly disturbed, he had long since learnt to compensate for this.

He accelerated slightly when his feet hit the Pacific Ocean. He seemed to cross half of it in a few strides, as his sense of distance always was blown out of proportion at such speeds. Running on water was always harder and he usually didn't much enjoy the sensation, but he found himself concentrating on the way the water felt underneath his feet, if only to concentrate on nothing else, concentrated on the way tiny droplets of water splashed around his legs as he ever so briefly made contact with the surface. He tried not to think of anything else, just _movement_ , clear his mind the only way he really knew how to, wanted to run faster than the words in his head.

He would never. He would _never_. The mere thought of the possibility made him want to throw up things he ate in second grade.

He saved a girl from getting hit by a car in Tokyo. Disarmed two muggers in Seoul. Caught a series of fragile vases in Beijing. A fire in Samarkand and he found the boy huddled in the corner, dizzy from the smoke, placed him into the arms of a distraught looking man, who had the same eyes. Rescued a little cat in a tree in Baku.

Istanbul. Naples. Madrid. Lisbon. He ran through them all, and by the time he stopped suddenly, only to realise he's in Gotham City, his heart stopped doing this painful twist and he lost count of the accidents he'd prevented. He tried to remind himself this is what usually made a good day.

He can't quite bring himself to smile.

. . .

Once he calmed down enough to think clear again, he sped back to Central City. It took him five hours to collect all of the security tapes of the pharmacies, of which there were considerably more than he ever thought possible. It would've been sooner, but it seemed everywhere he went, people wanted to kill each other, intentionally or not. And that wasn't even counting how long it took to convince some of the owners to let him borrow the tapes. Of course, he got why they weren't too keen on giving away the tapes to everyone who asked, but he got them easily enough for police investigations and he was _Flash._

He smiled friendly and thanked the young girl behind the counter who handed him the last tape as he walked out, putting it with the others. To be sure, he ran through the city again to check if he had passed every single pharmacy. Satisfied with the fact he had, he turned around again, speeding towards Gotham City once more. When he neared the entrance to the Cave, he accelerated, becoming so fast, he knew no one would possibly be able to perceive him, even if they were looking for him.

He came to a sudden halt in the Cave. He limited the effects of his sudden stop, but a load of papers still flutter up and swirl down towards the ground. He frowned and realised he must've been a lot more tired than he thought he was.

He put a little effort into collecting all the papers before the hit the ground and handed them back over to Batman, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Batman took the papers and flipped through them, arranging them again. He didn't even look up from his work as he asked, annoyed: "Do you _have_ to be an idiot?"

"Do you _have_ to be an asshole?" Wally fired back. He _really_ wasn't in the mood to be treated like this. Really, _really_ wasn't.

Batman decided that little comment wasn't worth to be dignified with a response and simply ignored it, as if it never happened at all.

"Do you have the results of the DNA test?" he asked instead, still arranged the papers.

"Nope," Wally answered, between light-hearted and annoyed, then quickly sliding towards the annoyance. "Got suspended, so no more running tests for me."

"You're a suspect," Batman stated, for it was hardly a question.

"Yeah," Wally admitted a little put off, then, trying for the light-hearted approach, he continued: "but it's not like they actually got anything on me, so it doesn't matter."

Batman didn't look like he bought the half-hearted attempt at brushing it off, but didn't comment on it. Wally pretended not to be grateful. Batman gestured at a device to his left. Wally recognised it instantly. It very much looked like a fancier model than the one he used at his work, but still unmistakably the right device. He knew the gesture was permission to use it, so he got the fibre out of the bag he with him, walking towards it.

"Crap," he said suddenly, hesitating with the plastic bag open in his hands.

"Is there a problem?" Batman asked.

"I just thought that this wasn't going to be of much use if we have nothing to compare our DNA to, unless you happen to have Central City's DNA database on your computer."

"Of course, I have it," there was smallest ghost of a smirk.

Wally grinned as he carefully placed the fibre in the machine, as he stated, half in disbelief, half in amusement: " _of course,_ you have it."

Wally carefully placed the fibre in the device, putting it on. He paced through the room, waiting for the test to finish. He couldn't sit still, this could be the first solid lead on the case since they started.

"Come oooooon, come oooon," he encouraged the system nervously, ignoring Batman's glare. "Finally!"

He threw a look at the machine, vaguely impressed and walked back to it, only to stare at it and walk back to Batman. The pacing kept on for a while, as he felt his heart beat faster in anticipation. This could be their very first concrete lead. If the monster was in the database, they could find him, they would have _evidence_ against him, and he could shove it in Agent Foster's filthy face and gloat at _him_ for a little and -

"It's useless," Batman's voice broke Wally's optimism.

He turned around sharply, back at the chair. "What do you mean _useless?_ "

"There wasn't a genetic sample on the fibre," Batman clarified.

"I'll scan it again," Wally informed him, stubbornly, as he went for the machine again and activated it, even without Batman's permission, feeling almost thrown off centre because of Batman's words.

"That's not going to change anything, West." Still. That rational, cold voice of his. Like it didn't matter at all.

"It has to!" Wally snapped back, whipping his head up and glaring harshly. His heart felt cold in his chest, a strange feeling of helplessness creeping up again. "It has to. We need to have _some_ kind of link! We need to have something!"

"West, calm down. Simply because _this_ is a dead end, doesn't mean everything is."

"Don't you -" Wally snapped, looking at the screen, showing a red "Error: No Genetic Trail Was Found" sign at his face and he gritted his teeth. The words seemed so final, so dead, so definitive. Tough luck, here it ended, no genetic trail was found.

He felt another wave of inexplicable anger, the kind of anger that filled him and he couldn't get out of him, just this suffocating feeling. He fidgeted and felt his face go through at least seven different expressions, until he settled for a disturbed frown, and sighed.

"Alright," he said, more to calm himself than anything else. "Alright, this was to be expected."

He dropped his shoulders, fighting something bitter and cold inside him. This was to be expected, he told himself again. Couldn't be helped. He would find another lead, something else. There would be something else.

This was just the start.

. . .

. . .

Sorry for the delay, everyone! But here I present to you, another chapter! I don't have an awful lot to say about this, really, just enjoy it. Other characters will make an appearance, but since it's mostly Bruce and Wally centric, I'll also be writing about them most XD Pretend the others are doing important stuff around the world.

Please review!

See you at the next update!


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